What do they call one girl with three boyfriends?
by shinythings22
Summary: New Summary ch 19 : Zoey loves all three of her guys. Events slowly coalesce now to reveal new tattoos, a terrifying, soul-deep connection with Kalona, practical reasons her guys are important, and a more primal reason her guys cannot let her go.
1. Stark

4/10/09 Edited to add Author's note:

A few reviewers have correctly called me on labeling my story "Zoey x Erik" when the first five chapters are all Stark! I've been stubborn about changing it because I'm planning to give Stark, Erik, and Heath as much equal time as possible, and I could only do Zoey and one other character. I think what I'll do is leave it Zoey and Erik for now because I'm working on the Zoey x Erik chapters. I think I'll just try to change it back and forth with whoever I'm concentrating on at the moment. Oh! And for good or bad, not all the chapters will be about Zoey and the guys in bed ;-). I have a plot now! I'll need about two more chapters to get to it, I want to give Zoey and Erik equal time first.

If you're a die-hard Zoey x somebody, I'm trying to label the chapters fairly clearly. Don't worry, I understand! I'm a Twilight fan as well as HON, and I won't even *consider* reading any Bella x Jacob fanfic :-D.

Thanks so much for everyone's interest!

4/15/09 Addendum...

Dangit, this is hard! Okay, I'll be honest: I'm totally a Stark girl. But I can see why Zoey wants Erik and Heath, too, and that's what inspired me to write this story. I'm trying to let Zoey fall completely in love with all three guys, while keeping her love for each of them slightly different and her relationship with each of them slightly different (AND eventually getting to this fabled "plot" thing... ;-)). So I'm changing my label to just "Zoey". I hope I can bring you all along for the ride and get you to fall in love with all three guys as well! But again - Jacob thing - I understand ;-).

* * *

Stark's gentle fingers stroked my hair, and I turned my head slightly, pressing my lips against his collarbone. His skin was slick, his chest rose and fell beneath me as his breathing slowly quieted. His hand cupped my cheek, and he tipped my face up to his, covering my mouth gently in another sweet kiss.

"That was nice," he murmured, smiling against my lips. My answering smile spread across my face.

"Very nice," I whispered back, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as I deepened our kiss. Our mouths moved together as his hand traveled down my naked body. I shivered, and he pulled the sheet over my shoulders and held me tighter against his equally bare skin.

"I wasn't cold," I teased.

"Good to know," he answered, his voice soft, and for a moment our eyes met. I groaned when I realized that the lust in my eyes was mirrored by only sadness in his.

"No." I closed my eyes and shook my head. I couldn't bring myself to pull away, though, and instead snuggled closer into his muscular chest.

"Heath. Erik." Stark stated their names quietly, and I grimaced.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I haven't – "

He cut me off with a finger to my lips. He kissed the top of my head. "I'm not asking you to," he whispered. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. I waited, dreading what he might say.

To say he surprised me with his next statement might be the understatement of my _**life**_.

He took a deep breath, then continued in a normal, conversational tone; no hint of the whispered passions of only moments ago. "I think you should sleep with Erik. I actually don't know what you've been waiting for. Heath is a foregone conclusion, but Erik is going to lose his mind if you don't put out soon."

"_WHAT_?!?" I screeched. I sat up quickly, pulling the sheet with me to hide my nakedness.

A lazy smirk settled onto his face. He left one hand on my hip, but tucked his other hand under his head, resting his elbow on the pillow. He arched his eyebrows at me.

"What?" He grinned innocently, the cocky, bad-boy persona back in place.

I seriously considered hitting him.

"You choose NOW to bring this up?" I sputtered.

His cocky grin got wider. "Well, we're both relaxed, both… satisfied…" the innuendo dripped from his tone, and I silently cursed the smile that spread across my face at the reminder of our recent… satisfaction.

His tone lost its cockiness as he lifted his hand from my hip to stroke my cheek. "You have my heart, Priestess. You have my oath as your warrior. But I am not enough for you."

I wanted to argue with him.

But if he was wrong, I would have made changes weeks ago. I would have insisted on breaking my Imprint with Heath – _again_. I would have broken up with Erik – _again._ Instead I had 43 incoming text messages and 4 voicemails from Heath – and 10 outgoing texts. And I would have sent more, but reassuring Heath that I was _still_ fine and not in any immediate danger was exhausting. Besides, he had insisted that we meet Saturday night at Charlie's Chicken, and of course I had agreed. He would see for himself that I was fine_. And later that evening, we would find a quiet, private spot for me to feast on his blood, and we would both be more than fine_.

I grimaced when I realized I was having fantasies about bloodlust – heavy on the lust - while still in the arms of a man I was pretty sure that I loved. The word _soulmate _skittered across my thoughts once again. How could I do this to Stark, whether he was my soulmate or just a guy I was falling in love with – or even just a guy I was _sleeping _with? I hadn't ever considered myself to be the kind of girl who would have more than one boyfriend at a time. But since I had come to the House of Night, lusting after more than one boy – and even more strangely, having them lust after me – had pretty much been my normal relationship status.

With Heath at least I had some excuse. I hadn't _meant_ to Imprint him – I hadn't even realized what it meant or that it was even possible. And stack on top of that the fact that he had been my "kind of" boyfriend ever since third grade, had been emotionally and physically devastated by the crappy way I broke our first Imprint, and had only become Imprinted with me again in the course of saving my life…not to mention the aforementioned bloodlust… I just couldn't bring myself to break our Imprint again. And at this point, from what I understood from my advanced Vamp Sociology textbook – and how my entire body nearly convulsed with pain if I even seriously considered breaking the Imprint – I doubted that it was even possible.

Erik was worse. He was my first boyfriend at the House of Night, and I had already broken his heart once when I cheated on him with my former professor, Loren Blake. Not only had I cheated on Erik with Loren, I had lost my _virginity_ to Loren – and Erik had walked in on us. For Erik's sake, I should really, really find a way to be exclusive with him or break up with him. To put him through _another_ situation where he knew I was sleeping with someone else while he was still my boyfriend was pretty much unforgivable.

At least this time I wasn't sneaking around – like that really makes that much of a difference, I know. But at least Erik knew I was also seeing Stark. And Heath. _Crap._ But when I had broached the subject of us breaking up again, unable to control the quavering in my voice, Erik had angrily cut me off_. "Do you think after all of this that I'm just letting you go?"_ he had hissed, eyes blazing with anger. He had spun around then, and before I could formulate any kind of answer, I had watched his shoulders fall in defeat. "_I…love you, Z. I know you love me. I know you… love them, too. Just give me a chance to figure out how to handle this."_

Freaked out by his mood swings and what he was suggesting – could he really be saying that he'd try to be okay with me dating him _and_ my (_cringe)_ other boyfriends? I really wanted to run out of the room. But the goddess-given sense I was learning to trust had prompted me to step closer to him instead. When I was closer, almost touching him, the defeat and hope and love in his voice had echoed in my ears, and I had wrapped my arms around him, feeling the _rightness _of us being together.

After that day… well, I knew I didn't want to give Erik up. And it seemed like a cop-out to use my Goddess as an excuse to be kind of a ho, but it really seemed like the Goddess didn't want me to lose him, either.

And I had to admit that Stark was right. Erik was so tightly wound that I kept waiting for the explosion. I could tell Erik was _trying_ to be good, but I could also see the effort it cost him. If I slipped and mentioned Stark or Heath around him, I could see him pinch his lips together to keep himself from saying something, but he _did_ restrain himself. We had even managed to sneak in a few make-out sessions, and he even kept his hands on top of my clothes and away from my butt or my boobs. He had obviously gotten the message that pressuring me into sex with him was not the way to go. But I could tell it took a lot of effort for him to restrain himself. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the tension in his muscles, was all absolutely thick in the air between us.

Stark's voice drew me back to the present. The sardonic tone was back. "You know that if we were human I wouldn't put up with this shit for a second. There's no way I would share you."

I couldn't answer for a moment. _But only_ _if we were human._


	2. Stark's explanation

But we weren't human.

I reached out and traced the red crescent on Stark's forehead, letting my fingers brush against the stylized, embellished arrow tattoos that framed the crescent, marking him as a Changed vampyre. One out of only two red vampyres in existence. A red crescent, a red tattoo, he had earned his Change through the strength of fighting off the darkness that clung to him after his unnatural resurrection. But I could still see the darkness sometimes – it seemed to haunt him. And the last time he'd given in to the darkness, he'd been raping girls all over campus.

Yeah. I can pick 'em.

But Stark had _fought_ the darkness, had chosen good – had chosen _me. _He'd pledged himself to me as my warrior, a pledge that would last our entire lives. As long as he kept choosing good over evil, we had a chance at finding our own happily ever after. But how could our happily ever after include me sleeping with someone else?

Making love with Stark – and that's really what it felt like, more than just sex – was amazing, like our souls were meeting in the same way that our bodies were. If _he_ looked at another girl now, I knew there would be some serious hair-pulling take-down happening. Not to mention the future _he'd_ be facing missing part of his anatomy. And yet he was still telling me I should have sex with Erik, and soon.

I still couldn't find my voice.

"Zoey?" Stark prompted, his fingers still gently stroking my cheek.

"I'm… confused." Yes. That worked.

"About what?"

The emotion that had been silently building behind my ribs finally burst. "How can you even say that?!" I wailed.

"Do you want to break up with Erik?" he asked, in that same quiet, sad voice from before.

"Well… no…" Dammit. I could have at least said "I don't know" or something. Somehow it felt worse to admit it to Stark, out loud, that I didn't want to give Erik up.

"Do you want to break your Imprint with Heath?"

"NO!" That answer was loud and clear, and ripped out of me as a bolt of pain seared across my chest. Nope, no matter how complicated, the Imprint stays.

"Then…" he let the implication dangle.

"But…" then the words tumbled out. "But couldn't I just keep sleeping with you and explain to Erik and Heath…" What? That they were my second choices? Was that even true?

Stark's cocky grin was back. "I would _love_ that," he drawled. He sat up and grabbed my face between his hands and kissed me, quickly and firmly. His fingers, calloused from thousands of hours of archery, felt rough and special and amazing against my skin. They felt like _him. _

He broke the kiss and stared into my eyes. "Never doubt that I want you, okay? Never think this is easy for me. But Nyx has plans for you, and I'm not arguing with a goddess."

I shook my head slowly, trying to wrap my head around everything he had said so far. I was surprised, a moment later, to feel Stark's calloused thumb rub a firm but smooth line down my forehead. "Your forehead crumples up when you're thinking hard," he explained.

"Um… thanks?"

He chuckled, and leaned for another firm kiss. Then he dropped his hands from my face and gathered my hands in his. "Would it be better if I explained?"

I nodded vigorously, not letting myself speak. Though what he'd said so far had only succeeded in totally freaking me out, maybe if he _explained_ it wouldn't seem so bad.

Instead of explaining, though, he lifted the sheet and tucked it firmly over my breasts, anchoring it with my arms. I hadn't noticed when it fell. "Sorry," he grinned impishly. "hard to focus."

I laughed out loud, and leaned over to kiss him. He smiled sweetly against my lips. "Thanks," he murmured.

He pulled back and looked in my eyes. He grasped my fingers tightly, and rested our joined hands in my lap. We sat there together on the tiny dorm room bed, our legs and hands touching as he gathered his thoughts.

"I was thinking the other night how lucky I was that you chose me, when I realized that you still hadn't exactly ended things with Erik or Heath." His eyes held mine and I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I was mad as hell." I nodded again. Who wouldn't be mad? Erik was mad. I understood him being mad – I just didn't like it when he got possessive and pushy, too. Stark didn't sound mad right now, though. He sounded….ashamed?

He looked away from me and I interrupted, "What? Being mad makes sense!"

He looked away, and his voice dropped. He spoke slowly, sounding even more ashamed. "I had to… leave. That's why you woke up alone."

I remembered that morning. I got it, then. "You mean you got mad and you got…"

"Yeah." He said.

As close as we'd gotten, he still wouldn't tell me about the darkness that haunted him. I hated that he felt like he had to hide his problems from me. I could handle it. Couldn't I?

I pressed him a little, trying to see if he would tell me more, or at least see if I could guess correctly. "You mean you can't even get mad without…"

"Something like that." He cut me off. I could tell he wasn't going to say any more.

I sighed and squeezed his hands. I had to trust that he would tell me when he was ready. I let my questions drop and tried to pick up what he'd been starting to tell me. "But you came back…"

He took a deep breath and locked his gaze with mine. "I came back. Because Nyx told me to."

My jaw literally dropped. "Really?"

He grinned at me, still holding my eyes. "Really. She didn't say anything, but I was in the field house, thinking about… practicing…"

His voice dropped, ashamed again, and my breath caught in my throat. With Stark's 'can't miss' archery talent – as in 'can't miss even if the target is sound asleep in bed when Stark shoots his arrow three hundred miles away'…. Well, _practicing_ while he was angry was a pretty catastrophically bad idea.

Stark winced. "I was thinking about Erik and Heath and how much I wanted you to myself…" I continued squeezing his fingers, trying to reassure him somehow. What he was admitting to was freaking me the hell out, but Erik and Heath were still walking around, breathing and everything, so Stark had obviously made the right choice. He took a deep breath and continued, "but then I suddenly felt really, really calm. So I practiced shooting field house targets for a while, then eventually met you at breakfast."

I was even more shocked than before. He'd continued with his practice? And nobody died??

I was so overcome with relief that suddenly my arms were around his neck and I was tackling him back onto the bed, kissing his mouth and cheeks and neck in (relatively) non-sexual celebration. I was grinning like an idiot, and when I finally stopped to _look_ in his eyes, I could see a mixture of emotions crowd his face. He couldn't hide his elation at his own success, grinning just as hugely as I was, but a bit of what seemed like shame and embarrassment – and something that looked like shyness? – shadowed his eyes a little.

I kissed him firmly on the mouth one more time. I couldn't contain myself – I couldn't come up with the right words. "I'm so… _proud_ of you!" I beamed. "Proud" sounded a little like something a mom would say, rather than a girlfriend, but it was the first word that popped into my head – and he didn't seem to mind.

He laughed out loud and wrapped his arms tightly around me. "Thanks," he grinned, with that same mixture of elation and embarrassment. "But I have to give credit to Nyx. It had to be her. So… I just accepted that Nyx wants Erik and Heath in your life, so as your warrior, I want to help you."

A bit of skepticism slipped in - maybe because I still wasn't quite ready to deal with what he was suggesting. "Are you sure Nyx just wanted you to, um, not _kill_ them?" I asked.

But Stark was already shaking his head. "No. I don't know what Nyx has in mind, but while I was practicing it was just really _clear _to me that you…_needed_ all of us." He shrugged. "So…"

"So." I cringed.

He laughed again. "You're doing amazing things for my ego." He hugged me tighter. "But… you just admitted that you don't want to break things off with Erik or Heath. So what's wrong?"


	3. Making love with Stark

A/N – Okay, hardcore lemon alert. I really tried to incorporate a lot of the characterizations and history of Zoey and Stark, rather than just have them go at it. It's my first lemon so I'm a little nervous about it; let me know what you think.

Oh yeah, I keep forgetting to put a disclaimer – everything House of Night belongs to P.C. and Kristen Cast, I'm just playing in their playground.

************************************************************************

How on earth was I suppose to explain to Stark how confused I felt about Erik? How I really liked Erik and might actually love him, but hated his possessiveness and how it really seemed like he had been pressuring me for sex. How his current, careful, _not _pressuring me was almost as bad. _Crap._ I was actually considering asking for Stark's help with Erik.

Well, he was the one who brought it up…

I looked up, searching his face for some clue about how to ask him, some idea of where to start. Stark gazed back down at me, and his gorgeous brown eyes were filled with understanding. "It's okay, Zoey," he whispered, then bent his head closer and kissed me chastely. "You can say anything to me."

That look decided me. If he'd given me his cocky smile, maybe I could have laughed and asked for suggestions – hell, maybe even teased him about the whole situation. If he'd looked sad, maybe I could have stumbled through an explanation and begged for his help. But that look of just pure _understanding,_ like he was ready for me to say anything and he'd accept it… like he'd had some kind of communion with the Goddess and was utterly at peace with whatever needed to be done to serve her…

As hard as it had to be for him to let me be with someone else – to _encourage_ me to be with someone else – he was going to do it and not complain one bit. Well, he might complain a little (_you know that if we were human I wouldn't put up with this shit for a second…), _but when it really mattered he was one hundred percent on board. He was truly my warrior. He would absolutely die for me. And since dying wasn't required, he would do this instead. He would love me and let me love him and let me love another man, too. He would let me love _two_ other men, because Nyx told him I needed them.

I was absolutely overcome with emotion. I tackled him.

What I mean is, I sat up a little, launched myself forward and grabbed his arms, grasping just below his shoulders. I let my momentum roll us both over on the tiny bed as I pulled him on top of me. I miscalculated a little, because the roll finished with us both knocking into the dorm room wall. I laughed, a little breathless, at the effort it had taken to pull him over. He recovered quickly and held himself over me, hovering a little so his full weight wasn't on me. He raised his eyebrows in a question and gave me that cocky smile I love so much. I didn't answer his unspoken question with words, instead I kept letting my actions show him what I couldn't even begin to explain – how amazing he was, how much I loved him, and how much of my heart he held.

I wove my fingers into his hair and pulled his face down to mine, and when I couldn't pull his face down all the way I lifted my head up to reach his lips, kissing him with all the passion I was feeling at that moment.

He moaned into my mouth, just a little, and dropped more of his weight on me as he deepened the kiss, pushing my head back into the pillow, accidentally pressing my back tighter against the wall. We were already french-kissing, but I pushed my tongue even deeper into his mouth, our tongues pressing hard and slick against the other. The sensation of his mouth on mine, how his opened to me, sparked a warmth inside me that spread out from my center to envelope my whole body.

I couldn't kiss him enough, couldn't get deep enough, couldn't get close enough to him. He pulled us away from the wall a little, taking his weight off me completely and deftly maneuvered us onto our sides. He pulled me to him, and the length of our bodies pressed together. I loved the feeling of having him so close to me. Our legs tangled together; he even managed to twist one of his feet around my ankle. Our thighs and hips and stomachs were so close that I felt like we had merged into one person, like some bad scifi channel movie where we could phase then sink into each other and end up connected like we sank a through a few layers of skin and ended up _inside_ of each other. Okay, gross image, and yes, I'm a total geek, but it just felt so _good_ to be so close to Stark, so _right_, and I just wanted to put words to the sensation so I could remember it even after we made love tonight.

His hardness pressed against my stomach, and I could feel the smoothness of him against my skin. I wanted to reach down and stroke him, but I didn't want to separate our bodies. I wanted to keep this feeling that we were already inside each other without even doing the actual act.

I settled for continuing to kiss him and letting my hands roam over his muscular back, tangling up into his hair, and wandering downward over his tight butt. His hands seemed to have similar ideas, and I couldn't get enough of him touching me. All too soon his hands stilled, then he raised up and cradled my face in his calloused hands. He broke our kiss to look into my eyes, our foreheads pressed together, his breath hot and fast against my face.

"You are… my goddess," he panted. Well, that was a little ridiculous, but my insides still warmed at his words and at his love and devotion that was so deep and genuine that it almost hurt to return it. "I will gladly spend my life serving you, my lady," he finished huskily.

"Just spend your life doing _this_ and I will be blissfully happy," I whispered back, completely meaning it in the moment.

"Zoey, I want you," he whispered, sounding more like himself again, instead of sounding like he was worshipping me. I loved when he said things like that but it still made me a little uncomfortable. I wasn't a goddess, I wasn't even technically a priestess yet. I almost worried that he wasn't able to separate "Zoey" from the role the Goddess was grooming me to play. But when he said my name again, when he sounded like a man who wanted _me_, the woman I was becoming, my small doubts were easily pushed aside.

"Please, Zoey, let me be inside you," he almost begged. "Let me make love to you." Like I would ever refuse him.

I leaned away just a little so I could open myself up to him, but my back made contact with the wall again. My body mourned the loss of contact with his, even breaking apart for only a few moments. Stark immediately sensed my awkward position and swooped me up in his arms. He placed me down gently in the middle of the bed, hovering over me once again. He kissed me deeply, and I lost myself again in the explosion of sensation that came with his mouth moving with mine.

He reached down between us, his caressing fingers stroking between my thighs and along my core. He felt how wet I was for him, and I wasn't even embarrassed. The wetness was all about how amazing and good and loved he made me feel, and how ready my body was to accept him. He moaned in my mouth as his fingers plunged deeper between my folds.

I wanted to hear him moan again. We had to be quiet though, because, Hello, still in a fledgling dorm room; but I really wished that we could make love somewhere that we didn't have to be so careful. I wanted to _hear_ him. That additional component of being able to _hear_ his pleasure somehow sent shockwaves down to my toes, and I wanted to feel what it was like when he didn't have to hold himself back.

I reached down and stroked him, too, wrapping my hand around his thickness, feeling the smoothness of his skin over the hardness of his erection. I squirmed under him just a little, moving myself up slightly so I could position him to enter me.

The first time we'd made love I hadn't understood, having only my experience with Loren to compare. There's no other way to really say it – Loren had taken me on an exhilarating ride, but I really didn't _do_ anything. He'd made love _to _me – well, lied that he loved me and taken my virginity – but all I did was pretty much drink his blood and get Imprinted under his false pretenses. I really wasn't that much of a _participant_ – if I wanted to be crude I guess I could say that he'd "taken care of everything".

With Stark, we were truly making love _together. _But with Stark, there was the added component that he would never – well, _penetrate_ me – without me guiding him into me. The first time we'd made love I'd thought he was just being careful and considerate, but as the pattern continued – though we've only actually made love a handful of times; I was just too nervous about getting caught in my dorm room – I realized that he was holding himself back. I'd tried to ask him, once, but I'd been so embarrassed to talk about it that he'd easily evaded the question. I'd thought about it for a quite a while, though, and I think I finally understood without him telling me.

Before he pledged himself to me and chose good over evil, he'd let the darkness take control of him. Just one of the horrible things he'd done while he was like that was to force himself on quite a few of the girls on campus (I didn't ever want to know how many). He drank from them and raped them, but mind controlled them so they went away thinking that they liked it. I was pretty sure that when we made love now that some of those memories came back to him, and that he didn't ever want to do anything like that again. So even though he would ask to make love to me and I was more than willing, it was almost like he… _couldn't_… unless I brought him into me myself.

It made my heart hurt to think of his continued pain and shame over that horrible time. It made me both scared of him and sad for him. Scared that he'd ever been that sadistic and awful - and if I was being really honest with myself, could be again. Sad because the darkness that caused him to be that way wasn't his fault at all. And even more sad because what he'd done under the influence of that darkness still haunted him, even in the most intimate and beautiful and wonderful moment of us making love together. But since he couldn't just take me, even when I was willingly giving myself to him, I did my best to show him how much I loved and trusted him by, well, _telling_ him when I brought him inside me.

He continued to kiss me; deep, dizzyingly wonderful kisses, as I brought him to my entrance. I reached up to stroke his cheek, and reluctantly broke our kiss so I could look in his eyes. I pushed myself down on him just a little, feeling the fullness of him just barely inside me. "You feel amazing," I whispered, locking my eyes with his. He was breathing hard, but smiled a beautiful, genuine smile at my words. I lowered myself further, feeling my breath catch in my throat as I felt the toe-curling pleasure of him filling me. A little bit of sadness touched his eyes and I pretended not to see. I kissed him again and whispered, "I love feeling you inside me. It feels _right_."

He smiled again with just a hint of that cocky grin I loved, and I lowered myself even further, my eyes still locked with his as I sheathed him all the way inside me. He finally allowed himself to move, slowly withdrawing slightly then pushing back in, creating exquisite friction on places inside me that made me gasp at every stroke. "I love that it's … you… making me feel this way," I managed. I was already so… ready, that even though he'd barely gotten inside of me, he was already bringing me closer and closer to my release. I moved with him, increasing the sensations, feeling the delicious pleasure building.

He groaned and kissed me almost roughly and I returned the intensity. So quickly it nearly made my head spin, the combined sensations of him moving inside me, our mouths moving almost frantically together, and the amazing sounds he made brought me to my peak and rocked me over the edge. Exquisite pleasure, so intense it was almost pain, exploded from my center. Almost before I realized it I was clenching and pulsing around him, nearly thrashing under him, moaning in his mouth as he kissed me harder, trying to get as close to one another as we possibly could.

When I came down a few moments later he was still moving inside me, breathing hard as he kissed down my throat. I wrapped one hand into his hair and the other arm around his back to hold him close to me as I whispered, "I love you," in his ear. He found his own release almost immediately after that, his body tensing as he moaned into my neck and pulsed inside me. I was absolutely awestruck by how perfect it felt to share this with him. When he could move again, he picked me up off the bed a little to wrap his arms around me.

We lay there, wrapped up around and in each other for a long time. When he finally withdrew from me I felt a little bit sad, a little bit of loss. But then he laid back on the pillow and pulled me up to rest on his chest, wrapping his arms around me, and I felt better.

"Wow," he whispered, sounding a little shaky.

I giggled, surprised to hear that my giggle sounded a little shaky, too.

I snuggled into his chest, burrowing into his arms. He pulled the sheet over us and tucked it around me. I don't know which one of us fell asleep first.


	4. Stark's struggles

Author's note - Okay, when I was editing this all I could think is that this is an angsty, non-sex, sex scene. I hope that makes sense and that you don't mind… This was supposed to be a light scene, but Stark is really struggling and took it in another direction.

Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts.

* * *

I woke up to the wonderful feeling of Stark's rough, calloused fingers all along my body. I tried to keep my breathing steady so he would think I was still asleep and continue doing what he was doing. I thought he might stop if he realized he'd wakened me, and I wanted to keep enjoying the delicious sensation of his fingers along my skin.

His hands made a slow circuit over my body, and as the sleep cleared from my mind, I realized that he was tracing my tattoos. His fingers would brush down my neck, caress my shoulders, then glide down my spine. His hand would flow across the tattoos on my waist, lift to trace the marks on my forehead, then practically float over my skin as his fingers descended down the designs on the sides of my face.

I lost track of how many times his hands made that journey, traversing my body in long, slow strokes. His touch was not intentionally erotic, but still left tingling, burning trails along my skin with every pass of his fingers. I tried to lie still, but after countless passes of his fingers I was moaning, squirming, and writhing against him, plans of feigning sleep completely forgotten.

He leaned down and captured my mouth in a searing kiss. "Sorry," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. He sounded pretty smug, actually. I didn't mind a bit.

"I'm not," I returned, more than a little breathless.

I looked up, expecting to see his cocky grin. Expecting… I don't know, round three? My body was practically humming with his touch, and the hope that he might… want me…. again made my insides spasm orgasmically with just the anticipation alone.

Instead of the promise of more lovemaking, the face that met mine couldn't have shocked me more.

Stark's expressions shifted rapidly, an agonizing mixture of hope and pain. He was clearly waging some kind of horrible internal battle. My heart ached for him, but my body lagged far behind. I was still electrified by his touch, nearly trembling with want for him. I literally shook in a mixture of arousal and confusion, my body totally not keeping up with change in the scenery. I felt completely cut loose and adrift and hurt – both for him and for myself - at his shockingly abrupt change in intention and mood.

I searched his face for some clue. His brow was deeply furrowed with the intensity of whatever was going on in his mind, so much so that I felt my stomach clench a little in fear instead of pleasure. Hoping to soften his look just a little, I reached up, hesitantly, to smooth my fingers down his forehead, just as he had done to me a few hours before. A ghost of a smile touched his face. "Um…thanks?" he said quietly. The barest hint of a chuckle was carried along with his words, but disappeared as he seemed to make a decision and formed some sort of resolve.

"Lay back," he said softly. His voice was husky, dark, with a hint of menace and command. I started to feel seriously frightened. Stark had never made me feel like this.

"Please," he added almost immediately, sounding a little more normal, but still not completely losing the edge that made my breath catch in my throat.

My heart was racing as I debated my options. I was surprised to find that I didn't seriously consider running, or calling the elements to protect me. I also didn't dwell very long on the idea of kicking him out. My overwhelming choice was to comply. As much as he was scaring me in this instant, this was still Stark, and I trusted him. I trusted him with my life.

Trying to explain that to my freaked out body was a total other matter.

Heart still beating wildly and thumping in my chest, breathing fast and shallow, muscles tense, I brought my eyes to meet his as I slowly raised myself off his chest. The intensity radiated off him, but his eyes surprised me – they were full of pain but seemed to be begging me for something.

I trusted him. I was still freaked the hell out, though.

My muscles were still stiff with more than a little fear as I lifted myself off of him completely, then slowly lowered myself back on to the narrow bed next to him. He scooted over a little to make room. I reflected again, with something approaching humor, that dorm room mattresses are seriously not made for two people. At any other time the random thought hit me next would have made me giggle – _hmmm, think they're trying to tell us something?_ – but in the moment just left my insides more confused. I wanted to laugh, but also wanted to run, and instead did neither, keeping an iron grip on my fragile emotions while complying with Stark's request.

He reclined next to me, propped up on his elbow as he gazed down at me. I laid there stiffly, my body still almost frozen with confusion and fear that I couldn't shake. He reached over with his free hand and pulled the sheet up over my breasts and smoothed it gently around me. His face was a hard mask at this point and his eyes refused to meet mine.

Then he did something that left me reeling once again: he reached over and touched the center of my scar with one tentative finger, then leaned over and pressed his lips to it. I _really_ wasn't expecting that. Every time I was with him, intimately or casually, I completely forgot about thick, red, ugly, twisted scar tissue that disfigured my upper body; the hideous thing that ran from shoulder to shoulder just below my collarbone. (My Goddess tattoos lay like a beautiful filigree over it, but to me, the horrible scar just could not be disguised.) Even when I was naked before him, thoughts of that awful, repulsive rope of tissue disappeared like they were from another life. Around him I felt whole and beautiful. That he was deliberately noticing that horrible scar now made me freeze in a different way. One positive – I couldn't help noticing with some irony - all my fear had burned away, gone in an instant like flash paper.

His whole body shook as he placed another kiss next to the first. Slowly, agonizingly, he added more soft, wet kisses, one beside the other, working his way from the center of the scar at my sternum all the way to my shoulder where the raven-mocker's claw had first ripped my flesh. Once he reached the edge he returned to the center then worked his way to the other shoulder, his lips caressing every millimeter of the ragged scar. His breathing hitched, and as wetness touched my collarbone I realized he was crying. My tears – which were a mixture of self-consciousness and disgust for the grisly reminder of my near-death, embarrassment that the stupid scar bothered me so much, crushing heartache as I wished I could take away Stark's suffering, and confusion so thick I was nearly shaking with physical pain – tears that had been threatening to fall anyway - quickly spilled over to join his.

I tangled both hands into his hair and ran my fingers through the strands in a futile attempt to comfort him. After what seemed like forever he finally seemed to relax, at least a little. He raised himself back up on his elbow, then leaned over quickly to kiss my forehead. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and hugged me gently, then pulled me over on my side, facing him. He lowered himself to the bed with his face next to mine, our bodies curved towards each other but not touching.

He reached over and cupped my cheek in his hand. His deep, expressive brown eyes met mine. His face was calm, now, and his eyes were kind with a tinge of regret. "I am sooo sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you, or hurt you."

I couldn't find my voice.

"I was thinking… a lot of things."

"Like what?" I finally managed.

He reached over and brushed away the last trails of my drying tears, then let one finger drop from my cheeks to my chest and caressed my scar. It wasn't so hard now. Even though he was showing me he noticed it, he didn't act like it was ugly. His voice stayed low, but gentle. "One thing I was thinking was that when you got this, I wasn't there. I was only dreaming of loving you back then. Actually, when you got this I had probably given up on my dreams. I can't believe I almost lost you before I even got a chance to love you. But thanks to Erik and Heath, you're alive, and you're here with me now."

"Don't forget Darius," I added. That massive Son of Erebus had devoted himself to our little group as surely as Erik and Heath had, and his healer training was most of the reason I survived.

"Oh? So would you like to sleep with him, too?" He asked innocently. I couldn't quite believe my ears. His tone wasn't challenging or mean – it was mischievous. The torment of just seconds ago was gone. I met his eyes and they were absolutely dancing with some secret joke. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to hide his smile. He caught me so off guard that laughter bubbled in my chest and spilled over until I was gasping out loud.

This boy was going to kill me with his mood swings!

"Nah," I said, the bubbling laughter bordering on hysteria, "I don't see how I'd find the time. I've still got school, you know."

Stark laughed out loud then, too. He reached out and hugged me briefly, but released me just as quickly. He grabbed my hand and held it between our bodies, palm up. He smiled at me, a genuine smile, and brushed his fingers over Nyx's mark on my palm.

"This isn't easy for me," he said, still stroking my palm, smiling softly. "I don't _want_ to share you. But your life is in the balance in so many different ways. I know I'm not enough."

"You love me enough," I stated. Whether that was "enough" for what he meant I wasn't sure. But I knew in my heart that if we were human, his love would be enough.

"I do," he stated, still smiling. "But now I want you to tell me about Erik. You love him, too, and that's important. We'll figure this out."

* * *

Ending note - I'm really not advocating dating multiple partners. The Casts just set up these three lovely pairings for Zoey, and none of them are a bad choice. So I've tried to take the extra step of adding sex to the mix and exploring why it's important that Zoey stay connected to all three men. Her future vamp High Priestess status definitely plays a huge role, as does Kalona's eventual return.

This scene got much longer than I expected. Less angst coming up, Stark really is trying to help.


	5. Stark: Admissions and no decisions

Could he _really_ be okay with me sleeping with Erik? Why was I even considering this as a possibility?!

I looked down to see Stark's fingers absently tracing the design on my palm. His eyes flickered to mine then back down to our hands. He took a deep breath, then exhaled roughly. "I…" he began. He took another, quieter breath. "I can…smell him… you know. After you've…been with Erik." He sounded pained and… ashamed. It took me a moment to get past my own shame to realize that he was referring to another red vamp thing with the "smell" ability. I'd have to think on that later. Regular vamps could smell blood and smell Imprints, but this sounded different. This was a new tiny peek into the red vamp stuff, but I was too caught up in the ramifications that he smelled _Erik on me _to really appreciate the insight.

I hadn't hidden my continued involvement with Erik from Stark, but I was mortified that Stark could…_smell_…details that I'd tried to gloss over. I obviously wasn't sleeping with Erik (_yet,_ my traitorous brain whispered). But whenever I was around Erik for class and visits to Stevie Rae's tunnels, no matter how recently I'd been with Stark or how much I thought I was falling in love with him… Not all the time, but too often to just call it a "mistake", well… Basically, too often when I was near Erik I pretty much lost all my good sense and ended up with my lips crushed to his, my tongue in his mouth, my hands in his hair, and my body pressed to his. His mouth was always equally enthusiastic, his body…responsive…but his hands would always be balled in fists, pressed against the small of my back, most decidedly NOT roaming over the parts of my body he so obviously wanted to touch.

And Stark could _smell_ that. Crap crap crap.

I don't know what I thought Stark thought I was doing with Erik… I guess I didn't want to think about Erik when I was with Stark, and I guess I hoped Stark would magically not think about me with Erik, either. I felt like the worst girlfriend ever – to both of them. Hell, to all _three_ of them – poor Heath was barely getting an afterthought.

Stark was waiting for my response. "Oh," I said lamely.

He continued, "I can…smell him… on you… and I've seen you together in the tunnels."

I winced. The times Erik came with me to the tunnels and Stark was there were excruciatingly awkward. Stark didn't live in the tunnels with Stevie Rae and the red fledglings, but he visited often. I couldn't exactly ask him to time his visits so we didn't run into him.

Stark grasped my hand and rubbed reassuring circles over my knuckles. "You intimidate the shit out of him, you know," he chuckled.

That observation was not what I was expecting. "Really?" The question escaped before I could stop myself. If Stark was going to try to talk to me about Erik, I didn't want to make it any harder for him by saying too much or asking unnecessary questions. But Stark's comment surprised me. Erik had actually said something similar, but it was weird that it was obvious enough for Stark to pick up on.

Stark's cocky grin was back. "Hell, yeah," he said. "And he's always clenching his jaw and his hands when you're not looking. He's so tense he practically vibrates. He's mad, but he's not mad _at _you, if that makes any sense." I cringed. I might not be looking, but I could _feel_ the tension coming off Erik. It was like an electrical current – waves and waves of constant tension, interspersed with painful jolts when something _really_ bothered him. Maybe Stark could be helpful. Maybe Stark could tell me what to do to get Erik to calm down. Maybe…

No. I couldn't ask that of him.

Stark continued like he hadn't noticed me getting caught up in my own thoughts about Erik. "He's most comfortable when he knows something that you don't. He's not an ass about it; he genuinely likes helping you. It's like everything is right in his world when he can be the big bad vamp and protect you or help you, even if it's just about inexperience on your part. It makes me wonder how he grew up – he's got some serious control and authority issues, but even I have to admit that he really seems to be a genuinely good guy."

I blew out a breath, stunned. How had Stark noticed all this?? It seemed like he knew Erik better than I did! But _why_ did Stark notice so much about Erik?

Stark seemed to anticipate my question. He looked me in the eye, squeezed my hand, and grinned that bad boy grin. "There was no way I was going to listen to Nyx blindly when it comes to you. I had to make sure for myself that Erik was a decent guy. He's not good enough for you, but then," he shrugged, still grinning, "neither am I."

I smiled back at him and shook my head, nearly rolling my eyes at his self-effacing 'not good enough for you' comment. Inside, my mind was working furiously, trying to fit what Stark had just said with what I knew of Erik.

Then my common sense caught up with me and smacked me in the back of the head for thinking about my relationship with Erik when I was in bed with Stark.

This wasn't fair to Stark. It didn't matter that he believed Nyx wanted me to be with Erik, and Heath, as well as him. It didn't matter that I kind of believed it, too. It was still a crappy conversation to have with a guy I was falling deeper and deeper in love with.

Yet not so deep that I could keep my hands off Erik or my tongue out of his mouth.

_Fuck. _

I was mildly surprised at my internal voice. Then decided it was right. If any situation deserved a cuss word, this was it.

I couldn't make my eyes meet his, and instead stared down at our entwined hands. Stark pulled me closer, and I pressed my cheek against his bare chest. Why couldn't I give Erik up? Why did this have to be so hard?

Stark started talking again, but seemed to struggle more than before to find the words he wanted. "I watch you, too," he said quietly. "I haven't quite been able to figure your relationship out. I've been pretty sure that you're in love with him – I can't figure out why else you would still be with him. You… smell like him, so I know you're getting close enough to have him all over you. But when I watch you, you're never touching. Most of the time you're this ball of tension next to him. But then he'll do something or say something and you'll smile and relax like he just gave you the perfect present. It kills me that he gets that look. It makes me want to rip his throat out. But since he's making you happy I suck it up and deal."

His thumb was still rubbing gentle circles over my knuckles. Stark was hurting, but he was still pushing me towards Erik. My head was spinning. Was this _truly_ what Nyx wanted? She had to have seen what a mess I'd made of the Loren/Erik/Heath situation. How could she possibly think that putting me in this position again on purpose was a good idea?

Stark sighed – we were both doing a lot of that in this conversation – then laid back and pulled me over to lay on his chest. He wasn't as big and broad shouldered as Health, or as tall and lanky as Erik, and maybe he was a little thin, but he was muscular and a decent-sized guy. I wasn't self-conscious any more about me maybe being too heavy or him being uncomfortable with me laying on him. I knew now that he enjoyed holding me like this as much as I did.

He wrapped one arm around me, holding me tightly, then reached up his other hand and began to stroke my hair. I breathed deeply and relaxed into his chest, just letting myself enjoy the experience of his fingers slowly brushing through the long strands. As much as he was able to make me crazy with desire when he touched me any other way, right now I was grateful that these gentle strokes only relaxed my tense muscles and soothed my frayed emotions.

But now that I was feeling more relaxed, I could feel Nyx more clearly. And trusting the Goddess was the only thing in my life that seemed to work on a consistent basis. So I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the screaming in my head and the hurting in my heart, and listened instead to the rock-solid certainty in my gut. I got ready to talk to Stark about Erik.

I also had to do quite a bit of swallowing my pride.

I had to start with the worst. "Erik and I are a mess because I cheated on him." I was reminded again of our current circumstances and had to add, "Not that this should be any surprise to you, considering..."

I trailed off and Stark interrupted, still stroking my hair. "You never made me any promises, Zoey."

When did he get so freakishly mature?

I pressed myself closer into his chest, my hand pressed to my face, simultaneously trying to be closer to him and hide from him. "Yeah, I kind of did. I said me being with Erik wouldn't stop me from being with you, but you had to believe that I meant I would _break up with him_, not pull something as shitty as being with you both _at the same time."_ Wow. This whole situation was setting free my inner foul mouth. Aphrodite would be proud.

"But…" I continued. Then stopped. Then took a deep breath and tried again. Stark continued to stroke my hair gently: long, slow strokes all the way down to my waist. Waiting for me to continue. The strength of his love washed over me and I felt tears come to my eyes. "I can't _do_ this," I whispered. Then I flashed back to Erik, turning away from me, shoulders slumped in defeat, love and defeat and hope in his voice, and my Goddess-certain sense of _rightness _when I wrapped my arms around him.

If Stark was going to be this amazingly generous with his love for me, the least I could do was to tell him the truth.

I took another deep breath. My lungs had to feel full eventually, right? They wouldn't always feel like someone was standing on my chest? I tried to sound normal, like we were having an everyday conversation rather than one where I might be breaking both our hearts.

"I don't know if I love him. But being with him feels _right._ Usually. But I cheated on him. And, I guess from his point of view I'm still cheating on him, technically, since I was back together with him before I re-Imprinted with Heath and found you again. I thought we were working through it, the first one anyway, then I went and screwed it up again."

"Like I'm screwing things up with you, too," I whispered, losing my grip on "normal."

Stark stopped stroking my hair, moved his hands to the sides of my ribcage, and moved me up so we were both still on our sides, my body higher than his on the narrow bed. He leaned over and pressed his lips to my scar where it crossed over my heart. He looked up at me, his face a mixture of love and determination. "Nyx has a plan for all of us. As long as you're alive and you still love me, I think I can handle just about anything."

He seriously thought my life was in danger and that this was part of ensuring my safety. I almost hoped he was right. It just seemed like the depths of ho-ish-ness to not make up my own damn mind about which guy I wanted to be with, and instead start having sex with all of them on some weird rotating basis.

I suddenly realized that I might be freaking out prematurely here. After all, no matter what Nyx wanted or what Stark accepted, _I _wasn't going to sleep with Erik if he was possessive and jealous and pushing me for sex, and I really couldn't see him holding onto his current good behavior for much longer.

Relief washed over me and I tried to explain my revelation to Stark. He laughed at me, his face still pressed into my chest. "Zoey," he said. I could feel his cocky grin against my skin. "Do you _know_ what blue balls do to a guy?"

He laughed again, and I put both my hands on his chest and shoved him away, kind of playfully, kind of mad. I settled for laughing along and glaring at him at the same time. "I knew it! I knew I guessed right! No _wonder_ he looks like he's going to explode," Stark smirked. I shoved at him (mostly) playfully again, grinning this time. "But _why_ torture him like this? At _least _half your problems with him would be gone if you'd just have sex with him."

I hadn't thought of it like that.

So I tried to. And couldn't. And realized that I'd left out an important part of the "cheating on Erik" revelation. Crap. Even though Stark embarrassed me a little with the "blue balls" bit, it felt good to laugh. But now we were right back, slogging through the painful crap. This wasn't how I wanted to spend my night with Stark. _Dammit._

I forced myself to say the words. "Because I was a virgin when we started dating." The rest caught in my throat. _Because I didn't lose my virginity to him. Or to you. I lost it to a guy who tricked me. And Erik walked in on us in the act._ I'd told all my friends about it, eventually. But finally telling them had been almost a relief. It felt so much worse to try to admit it to Stark. I wanted to curl up and die.

"Priestess," Stark said softly after a few minutes of my interminable pause, pulling himself up on the pillow so we were face to face. _Crap crap crap. _How had I been so stupid? Oh yes, how did Loren put it? "_A shiny present here, a pretty compliment there, and you have true love and a popped cherry sacrificed to the god of deception and hormones." _Was I so sure my current predicament had the goddess's blessing? Maybe I was being just as stupid now as I was then.

"My lady," Stark began again. He loosened my arms – somehow I'd wrapped them around myself like I was going to be sick. He lifted my hand and placed it on his cheek, holding it there with his own hand, his brown eyes looking deep into mine. "Who was he?" he asked quietly.

It was both easier and harder, realizing that he understood. "The poet laureate, the one who was murdered."

"Loren Blake," he stated. I nodded.

"Did you love him?"

"I thought I did," I whispered. I couldn't hold his gaze.

He kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. I wasn't sure what he was sorry for, but it felt good to hear him say it.

Stark was quiet for a few minutes, then pressed his lips to my forehead again and groaned. "Zoey, you're acting like you _killed_ someone. I am so sorry for whatever that vamp did to you, and I'm so glad he's dead so I don't have to kill him for you, but _what happened?"_

He sat up against the headboard and groaned theatrically as he pulled me up to sit beside him. He pulled the comforter up to our chests, nudging me playfully with his elbow. I raised my eyebrows and felt one side of my mouth twist up in a smirk.

"That's my girl," he grinned.

I sighed. Really, the whole thing had just been stupid teenage hormones. Even Loren had said so. It was time for me to get over myself and just say it. "Loren seduced me, I let him, we Imprinted when we… you know. Erik walked in on us in the middle of… round two. Then I overheard Neferet and Loren in bed and she was congratulating him for tricking me and getting all the information she needed – because I mostly spilled my guts about everything I knew when Loren asked me."

Stark was looking at me like he was trying to do long division in his head. "Imprinted?" he asked.

"Yeah." I sighed again. "He was murdered pretty soon after I saw him with Neferet, and the Imprint was broken. I… felt him… being killed." Stark bumped my elbow again, in sympathy this time. He continued to look like he was thinking really hard about something.

He shook his head, hard, like he was trying to clear it. "So," he began. "Erik was okay with the no sex when you were a virgin, then he walks in on… Then you get back together and you still won't have sex with him and he starts to lose his mind." He sounded so matter-of-fact giving his summary that I could only look over and stare at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Zoey, I was the hot shit fledgling up in Chicago for almost three years. I'm also not a bad-looking guy. I did stuff I'm not proud of, and I can't even blame any of it back then on the evil-resurrection-red-fledgling fuckwittery. You made a mistake. Then you had to experience your lover's death with him. I'd say that's penance enough."

I let my head drop to rest on Stark's shoulder. I couldn't even feel relief that he understood. I was tired of this crap. I was tired of hurting Stark with my – _fuckwittery - _over Erik. I was tired of Stark's relentless, patient understanding. Why couldn't my life be simple?

Stark snaked his arm around my shoulders, hugging me into his side – a guy hug. It felt nice. It reminded me that he wasn't just my lover or my warrior or my possible soulmate; he was also my friend.

"Let me say one more thing," he said conversationally. "Erik was probably hurt as hell when you cheated on him. But he's more upset now that you're not a virgin anymore and you're still dating him and you still won't have sex with him. It doesn't make sense to him. Hell, it barely makes sense to _me_.

"Girls seem to do fine without sex. Give them flowers, cuddle them, tell them you love them, and they're fine." I glanced over at him and saw him raise his eyebrows and grin mock-evilly. "Forget that I'm sharing my seduction secrets, okay?

"But guys… if you don't understand the reason the girl won't sleep with you, it feels like rejection. Then you get confused and mad and pushy even when you don't mean to."

I rolled Starks words over and over in my head. So if I slept with Erik I'd get my sweet, non-pushy, not-jealous-or-possessive boyfriend back? I couldn't be sure of that. But… "You mean if I don't have sex with him I'll lose him?"

Stark leaned his head back on the headboard, squeezing my shoulder. "At this point, yeah, I think so. Sorry, it's just how it works. If you could make him _understand _why you won't sleep with him, maybe you'd have a chance…

"But with everything you've been through with him… Yeah, it's either take the next step or end it – and since both you and Nyx seem to object to ending it…"

I groaned, dropped the comforter, and flipped myself around in one fairly smooth motion, straddling him. I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "Thank you," I said. "I'll think about it. I hate that I'm hurting you but I'm still going to think about it. Right now I'm tired of thinking about it."

I pulled the comforter away from him and pressed my naked body against his. I gave him what I hoped was a wicked, seductive smile, and leaned forward to whisper suggestively in his ear. "Now I have other things I'd rather be doing."

His hands dropped to my hips, and I reached down to stroke his erection where it was hardening against my thigh. He pulled me closer and captured my mouth in a kiss. I smiled against his lips and pressed my bare breasts against his chest.

I was tired. I was tired of thinking and talking and hurting and hurting Stark and dealing with my self-inflicted drama. I wanted to _feel_. I wanted to bury myself into Stark and make him never let me go. I wanted to wrap myself around him and make him forget that he might not be the only guy I loved. I wanted to pretend we were human and that this was easy. I wanted to feel him fill me and I wanted him to feel me climax around him.

So I made love with him and tried to convey with every touch, every movement, and every kiss that I loved him no matter what and that I was perfectly satisfied in his arms.

This was a much better way to spend our evening.

* * *

Ending note: sorry for the fade to black. I just figured we already saw them in action. I'm feeling ready to move on and see what happens when Zoey and Erik get some time alone.

Don't worry, I'm not dropping Stark and Zoey, they'll be coming around again. I showed a friend my "lemon" chapter and she said it was too short – so I definitely need to give Zoey and Stark more… time… next time.

Next chapter: Zoey finally talks to Erik.

Thank you so much for the reviews and to those of you who've added my story in your story alerts and favorites! I'm so thrilled that you're enjoying it so far!


	6. Erik finds out

Author's note: Okay, another lemon, but I feel like I have to put a disclaimer that it is really, really angst-y. I've re-written this chapter at least five times and this felt… right. This longer chapter feels a little uneven to me, but I'm generally happy with how it turned out. However, I'm more than a little disturbed that this is where my brain is taking Erik and Zoey at the moment.

Oh - I know Zoey and Stark got more chapters, but this one is almost as long as the first three combined, and there's more Zoey and Erik to come. Let me know what you think…

**Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the House of Night playground...

* * *

I was pretty much a mess all day. I made it to all my classes, but I'm not sure I heard a single word anyone said. The only thing I could hear was Stark's voice, echoing in my head.

"_I think you should sleep with Erik. I actually don't know what you've been waiting for. Heath is a foregone conclusion, but Erik is going to lose his mind if you don't put out soon."_

"_But guys… if you don't understand the reason the girl won't sleep with you, it feels like rejection. Then you get confused and mad and pushy even when you don't mean to."" _

"_But with everything you've been through with him… Yeah, it's either take the next step or end it – and since both you and Nyx seem to object to ending it…"_

I could also hear the most important thing Stark had said; his words filling me with pain and love.

"_Never doubt that I want you, okay? Never think this is easy for me. But Nyx has plans for you, and I'm not arguing with a goddess."_

Even more than the words echoing in my head, I was distracted by the memory of Stark's touch. I could _feel_ his calloused hands on my skin, my body practically humming at the thought. I could close my eyes and remember how he felt inside me, how my perfect lover/warrior/soulmate/friend brought me to absolute bliss in his arms. I could also feel his agony as kissed and practically worshipped every millimeter of my awful scar…

But somehow, sometime today I decided that Stark was right: I needed to sleep with Erik. It sounded so wrong even inside my own head. Breaking up with Erik would make sense. Having sex with Erik while I was hopelessly in love with Stark? Not so much.

But I couldn't – or wouldn't – let Erik go, and Stark was painfully honest that my relationship with Erik was pretty much doomed at this point if I didn't sleep with him. But that was yet another reason that this was a bad idea. Sleep with a guy to keep him as your boyfriend? Something I've never been okay with.

And that still didn't change my decision.

Now the day was pretty much over. I was in Erik's apartment, sitting on his couch.

I looked up at Erik. His Superman / Clark Kent gorgeousness was almost painful to look at. I wanted to run my hands through his dark hair, drown in the blue pools of his eyes, feel his tongue moving with mine…and forget that wanting Erik with the memory of Stark's body still on mine pretty much made me the ho I really didn't want to be. _Crap._

"What did you want to talk about, Z?" Erik asked quietly.

I shifted nervously on his couch. He wasn't making this any easier, absolutely radiating tension and standing in front of me instead of sitting down beside me. He wrapped his arms around himself, but it wasn't a macho gesture. It was almost like he was _cringing_ away from me.

I looked around the room, not meeting his beautiful blue eyes, not looking at his tense but perfect, tall, lanky, well-formed body... _Dammit._

I concentrated on his living room. It wasn't easy – there wasn't much to look at. He had a couch, a coffee table, a desk, a bookshelf full of plays, a wall of DVDs, a generous number of speakers and subwoofers and whateverthehellelse stereo equipment, and a huge flatscreen TV that just about covered the wall. A lot to list, but not a lot to look at. Pretty plain: all the electronics were black, the bookshelf and desk and table were a mismatch of light and dark wood, and the couch was a faded shade of blue. The walls were tan. No posters, no art, no pictures – not even of his human family. There wasn't even anything like a colorful throw pillow to break up the monotony.

Okay, so the lack of throw pillows just proved he wasn't gay. But basically, other than the bookshelf of plays, it was a just generic guy room. I suddenly wished that there was _something_ more, _something_ that showed a little bit more about who he was, what he liked. Even besides the current, most obvious issue, I really was the worst girlfriend ever. I barely knew anything about him. Worse, the things I _didn't _know were pretty glaring. Like, how did he grow up? Who was his human family? Was Aphrodite his only other girlfriend? Did he have a _cat?_ Or how about a _really_ obvious question – why was he teaching at the House of Night in _Oklahoma_ when both Hollywood and Broadway seemed to want him?

And I had no idea.

He was still waiting for me to answer him. "Ummmm…" I started, not really knowing where to begin. Then the words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Stark says that I really need to sleep with you before you lose it." Was it masochism on my part that I brought up Stark almost immediately? Was I trying to sabotage my own plans? Was I trying to hurt Erik?

I glanced at him quickly, afraid of what I would see. His face was completely unreadable, but his blue eyes were hard and cold. His arms were still wrapped around himself, but he wasn't cringing any more – he was angry.

My word vomit continued, the words coming out almost too quickly for me to even follow what I was saying, definitely too fast to stop myself or edit anything, while the whole time my mind was screaming at me to shut up and run out the door. "He said sex is different for guys than girls. He said a girl just needs flowers and stuff like that, while a guy needs sex or he feels rejected."

Erik's voice was hard. "_Stark_ said?"

I could only nod, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I let myself try to talk again.

"When?" His voice was flat. I shivered. His voice held the tone I had heard only once before, the one that made him sound like a stranger – like someone I wanted to _stay_ a stranger. The one that had made me doubt if I ever really knew Erik at all. Was the kind and sweet Erik I thought I knew really only an act?

"When?" He asked again, quieter this time. I couldn't help looking up, and when I did, I saw my Erik. The stranger was gone. What was left in his eyes made my head spin and my heart hurt and my breath catch behind a lump in my throat. I had expected the awful mask, the hard face and cold dead eyes. Through the emotional whiplash I could barely process his expression. He looked sad and defeated and in pain.

My mouth betrayed me again, apparently completely disconnected from my brain. "Ummm… last night…" I wished I could say something that wouldn't hurt him. I loved Stark, but I hated seeing the pain in Erik's eyes. I hadn't realized that he didn't already know.

"After," Erik prompted. I kept my mouth shut, trying to think of the words to say to keep him from finishing the question he already seemed to know the answer to. Was he really surprised that I was sleeping with Stark? Was he upset because I was basically forcing him to acknowledge it? Or had he really tried to turn a blind eye, unable or unwilling to believe I would hurt him like this again?

"After you slept together," he stated with finality.

I couldn't deny it, and couldn't relax. There was more. If I was going to be honest with him, and it seemed like I was – if only because I couldn't stop myself - I had to be _completely_ honest. I looked up again and flinched at the agony I saw in his eyes.

"After you slept together," he repeated, pausing for what seemed like forever, until he finally forced out the last, single word he had to say. "Again." I nodded. I had to look away from the torment on his face.

"Sorry," I whispered. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I wasn't sorry about Stark. I would never be sorry about Stark. But I ached to see Erik's pain. The hurt on his face defied description, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. I had hurt him with Loren, but at least with Loren he knew how stupid I'd been. Hurting him now was infinitely worse. Stark and I loved each other. The only stupidity here was that I hadn't even considered what our loving one another would do to Erik.

"It's …okay," he answered, taking too long to respond, the casualness of his voice sounding completely off after the pain and anger from seconds ago. Worse, it sounded forced.

"You're a better actor than that," I whispered. The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

He let out a breath like he'd been holding it for a long time. He sat down – finally – choosing to sit across from me on the coffee table rather than next to me on the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. "I can't act around you, Z. I try, but it just doesn't work very well."

"Well," I forced out, trying to lighten the mood. "I keep trying to be less honest with you, and you can tell how well that's working out for me."

He looked up at me and a small smile touched his face – mixed with pain, but still a smile. "I suppose we should be glad that we're being honest with each other."

I couldn't quite be _glad_ for hurting him – but honesty was good. Hiding things from him and my other friends had left them feeling hurt and betrayed, and had left me alone and nearly friend-less. Maybe honesty – however painful - was a better option.

I couldn't quite believe that he couldn't act around me, though. If he was telling the truth, and what I was reading on his face was what he was actually feeling, then his emotions were even more messed up than mine. And if he wasn't acting, what was that stranger-mask all about? I actually shivered a little. Maybe Stark wasn't the only one who had darkness to fight. _Great. Yep, I can pick 'em. _

But if Erik wasn't acting, I could at least mostly trust what I read on his face. And what I saw was excruciating. I hurt him. Again. At least this time he wasn't running away or screaming at me – even though I really, really deserved it. Maybe that would come later. We still had a lot to talk about, after all. I still hadn't changed my mind, and even though I was probably just adding to my cruelty to even suggest it, I was still ready to sleep with him. I had made up my mind to follow the Goddess's path for me, and as messed up as this whole situation was, I could feel the rock-solid certainty that told me I was doing as Nyx wished.

"Maybe the Goddess is helping us out with our poor communication skills?" I suggested weakly.

"Maybe," he shrugged, his blue eyes holding mine, "You're the one with the inside track on Nyx, what do you think?"

I took his question seriously and really _listened_ for the goddess. This felt… right. I nodded.

He blew out another big breath. "When, Z?" he asked quietly, looking away.

I looked at him blankly, watching his shoulders tense and curl in protectively. _When?_

He met my eyes, and the pain there was heartbreaking. "How long have you and Stark been sleeping together?" He seemed to struggle with himself, then added, his voice barely a whisper, his lips barely moving, eyes downcast, "When was the first time?"

He wanted me to be honest about _that_? Apparently I wasn't the only masochist here. Again, I was speaking before I could plan out the words, before I could try to find some way to minimize the pain I was sure to inflict. "The night we chased Kalona away; after I nearly killed him." My own voice dropped to a whisper, "After Stark nearly killed himself to save me."

Erik chuckled, but it was an awful sound. I look up and saw a sardonic grin twist his usually-gorgeous features. That expression was so wrong on his face. Sardonic, sarcastic, cocky – those were Stark, not Erik. I loved Stark, but I didn't want Erik to be some awful imitation of Stark. It was grotesque.

Erik stopped chuckling, and I was relieved to have that revolting sound come to an end. "I can't compete with that, can I, Z.?" He asked bitterly.

I was appalled. This was just getting worse. Tears filled my eyes and I struggled to swallow around the lump in my throat. I could only stare at him mutely, words refusing to form. Great. This whole conversation I'd been completely filter-less and honest, and now_,_ _now_ that I really needed to say something – something comforting? Loving? Tell him he was absolutely wrong? Shake him and tell him this wasn't a competition?– I couldn't make a single sound.

"Did you mean it, Z?" He asked quietly, seemingly oblivious to my struggle – not that my own pain mattered to me much at this point. He met my eyes again, and his own expression was beyond conflicted. I saw misery, disgust, hope, fury, anguish, - and more I couldn't recognize or couldn't name - all swirl together to twist his features and shadow his eyes. His voice was hard, but laced with agony. "_Stark said_ you should sleep with me? What the hell is that?"

Words flowed to my mouth now, and I realized I had a choice of what to say. I could take the easy way and offer myself to him on Nyx's (metaphorical) altar (dang, Damian would be proud of my vocabulary)… Or I could offer him _me._

I said the only thing I could: "I don't want to let you go."

My words hung in the air between us. My brain raced ahead of me, desperate to fill the silence; but I managed to hold my tongue.

"Don't lie to me," he lashed out.

Tears pricked my eyes. I deserved his anger. But even though I loved Stark with all my heart, I still felt _something_ for Erik. I didn't know what it was, but it was strong. Those seven words were the best I could come up with to convey the depths of my confusion and feeling for him. They weren't much, but they were honest and heartfelt.

"Please," I couldn't help but whimper.

"Leave." He said, fury etched on every inch of his body.

He didn't want me. I had hurt him too much, and he deserved to hurt me in return. I should have ended things with him a long time ago, instead of selfishly trying to keep him hanging on while I fell in love with Stark. I was a vile, horrible, awful person.

And I still didn't want to let him go.

I winced, but looked deep into his hard blue eyes. My voice shook. "Let me show you."

"No."

He stood up abruptly, knocking the coffee table back a few inches, and his long strides took him swiftly away from me. I stayed on the couch a moment longer, letting the tears spill down my cheeks. Then I followed him. He was in his bedroom. It was dark except for the illumination coming through the door. He stood in the middle of the room and he spun around to face me when I entered. His face was still twisted, full of fury and misery. I wished with all my heart that I could somehow keep Stark but take away my betrayal – or at least take away Erik's pain. His hands were clenched and his jaw was tight. I crossed the room and dropped to my knees in front of him. I didn't let myself think.

My hands shook violently as I reached up and unbuttoned his jeans. _Button fly. Something else I'd never noticed. _I refused to consider what I was doing, how I was adding to my stupidity and possibly my cruelty. I tugged first at the pockets and then the denim that hugged his butt, and finally had his jeans around his ankles. I couldn't look up, but I could feel him shaking and hear him breathing hard. What the hell was I thinking?

I ran my hands up his toned calves and up further over the back and front of his thighs, letting my fingers explore the hard muscle under his slightly rough skin. Short, dark hairs covered his legs – not in a gross way, but in a way that was very masculine and strangely beautiful. The only sound was Erik's breathing, rasping out above me.

I let my hands go higher until they reached the waistband of his blue boxers. I curled my fingers around the elastic and began to pull them down. Erik's hands caught my wrists. "Zoey, no," he said, his voice husky. I ignored him, tugging my wrists free of his loose grasp and dragging his boxers down over his legs, past his knees, until settling them around his ankles as well.

I looked up just a little, just enough for my eyes to meet the column of his erection. I reached up, trying to not let my hand shake as I lightly caressed his head and shaft. "Z, no," he said again, and I could hear him swallow, hard. But his hands didn't try to stop me this time.

I had settled on the backs of my ankles as I pulled down his clothing and stroked him, but now I raised myself up so I was kneeling. I gathered his erection in my hand and was moving closer when Erik's hands on my shoulders prevented me. His breathing was loud and slow and deep. "_Z,_ _stop,"_ he said, quietly but firmly. And I finally remembered: _no means no. _Even when it's the guy that's saying no, even when he's not fighting very hard. Even when I was only doing this so he could hurt me. _No means no. _

I stopped and dropped my hand. His hands were still on my shoulders. I finally looked up at his face. He didn't look angry anymore; he looked conflicted. His hesitation gave me the strength I needed.

"Please." I was already totally debasing myself, I might as well beg for it, too. The lump in my throat and the way my breathing hitched told me that I was still close to tears, but I was relieved that my eyes stayed dry. "Please," I repeated, as clearly as I could past the tightness in my throat. His blue eyes looked deep into mine. His eyes were unreadable, but not cold, not hard, not the eyes of the stranger I feared. I could even imagine that I saw hope in the far depths of those blue pools.

I continued, trying to make my voice as resolute as I could, "I never did this for Loren. I've never done this for Heath. I've never done this for Stark. Please let me do this for you. Then you can tell me to go."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing heavily. His hands shook on my shoulders and his grip tightened for a moment, then he dropped his arms to his sides, clenching his fists tightly.

I took a deep, shaking breath and closed my eyes. My hand found his erection easily by touch, and I brought him to my mouth. I really didn't know what I was doing, but I'd seen internet porn like any teenager. Not a lot, but enough to not be flying completely blind. I closed my lips over the head of his erection, careful not to use my teeth. A little fluid had leaked out the tip and I braced myself for grossness – but he tasted…sweet. I got braver and let my tongue glide over the tip – and I heard and felt Erik groan. The sound actually relaxed me a little and I opened my mouth more to bring him deeper inside. He groaned again and I felt something like a bolt of electricity shoot through me and settle as an exquisite ache in my core. I'd always been disgusted at the thought of...this. Was I actually getting…_aroused_ by pleasuring him? Aphrodite had said something crude about 'not knocking it until you try it' – but could she have possibly meant _this?_

I pulled him even deeper inside my mouth and swirled my tongue around him like an ice cream cone, and I was rewarded by another deep groan. I realized my hand was still holding him, so I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft and stroked the part of him that wasn't in my mouth. I felt the lightest pressure on my hair, then a firmer - but still extremely gentle – caress. Was Stark right? Would this make things with Erik… okay?

I tried to coordinate my hand and my mouth so I was stroking all of him in the same time. I was a little clumsy, shaky at first, but I slowly found a smoother rhythm. The skin of his erection was so smooth, so soft over his hardness, and I marveled at the texture of him against my tongue. My jaw felt a little weird, but the sensation of him filling my mouth was so…erotic. My body relaxed more fully, and I found myself leaning toward him, bringing him deeper and deeper into my mouth.

I felt Erik's hand exert firmer pressure against my head…then the pressure disappeared completely. I had a quick flash of a crude comedian I'd seen on some cable special, laughing as he pantomimed pushing a girl's head against the bulge in his pants. I felt nervous for the first time – would Erik want that?

One of Erik's hands moved to rest on my shoulder. His grip tightened briefly, but he didn't tell me to stop, so I continued to stroke him. Very soon his other hand was back, softly caressing my hair. I could feel him tremble a little, though, and felt the tension in his touch. I was amazingly relieved when I realized that he probably had wanted to…guide me…but was keeping himself from pushing me.

I was grateful for his restraint. I don't think I could have kept going if I'd felt like he was coercing me in any way. But I also felt inexplicably – tender? – towards him that he seemed to care enough to be gentle with me.

I was too far gone into this: I didn't care that I was humiliating myself. I didn't care that I was on my knees in a dark room with a man who was going to reject me when I was done. I didn't care that I deserved whatever pain he wanted to inflict. I only wanted to make him feel good. My lack of experience was glaring, though, and I wasn't sure what else to do. I only knew that actual intercourse was pleasurable for guys, so in a flash of bizarre inspiration I decided to try to replicate that sensation with my mouth.

I closed my lips around him, still mindful of my teeth, and carefully sucked along his length, all the way to the tip. He was completely out of my mouth for barely a second, then I closed my lips and pushed my mouth against him, trying to give him the same sensation as entering me. His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing him harder into my mouth and I actually moaned a little. I felt so…powerful, making him feel that good, making him lose control. My own center was throbbing, my whole body tingling in response.

I got braver and tried again, sucking up his length more forcefully and pushing down over him more firmly. His hips thrust him into my mouth a few times and I began moving, almost instinctively, with his rhythm. I reached up and braced my hands along the smooth, hard "V" of his hips, and he moved his hand from my hair to rest it on my other shoulder. He was thrusting hard into my mouth now, but it felt _good_.

His thrusts went faster, harder and I held him in my mouth, letting him set the pace and the depth. I wasn't sure if I was doing it right for him, but my own body was humming. I let him fill me, over and over again, and wrapped my tongue around his hardness. I leaned more of my weight into him, pressing my palms harder against his hips.

"Z, move," Erik rasped out. I shook my head just a tiny bit. I needed to do this completely, for him and for me. I'm pretty sure I heard him hiss out a quiet "Fuck." Just seconds later he came, his cool liquid filling my mouth. I stilled and just held him in my mouth until he stopped moving, then I carefully dragged my lips up around his length and released him. I swallowed gingerly. It wasn't fabulous, but it wasn't horrible like I expected.

Swallowing aside, I was insanely turned on from making him come like that. My whole body quivered with desire for him. I wanted to pull him on top of me and sheath him inside me. I wanted to press myself against him and feel his naked body against mine. I could feel the heat of his body radiating between us and I ached for the friction and for the release he could provide.

Then he removed his hands from my shoulders and pulled away from me. My anticipation and hope and desire vanished. I dropped my hands from his hips. I tried not to think, and especially tried not to feel.

I stared at the dark floor as Erik slowly pulled on his boxers and jeans, then lowered himself to his knees to face me. Reality hit me like a truck. I'd made him feel good, but that was all. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, and tears started to prick my eyes again. I'd betrayed him and wounded him too deeply. In my insanity in the last - moments? hours? – I had made a shameless choice. I had given Erik the only thing I could think of – an act that I'd never shared with anyone else. I knew it wouldn't make up for my betrayal, but on some level I thought I…owed him. And in my guilt and shame I'd also decided to make myself as vulnerable as possible – so he could hurt me at least a fraction as deeply as I had hurt him.

I'd let myself actually enjoy bringing him pleasure, though, and briefly got caught up in the moment. I'd felt a twinge of hope when he'd stroked my hair. But I wasn't naïve enough to believe that a good blow job would fix what I'd done.

I braced myself for whatever was coming. I deserved it, but that wouldn't make it hurt any less.

His long, warm, gentle fingers glided along both sides of my face, his littlest fingers just under the edge of my jaw. The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, coursing down my cheeks. I dropped back to rest my butt against my ankles. My legs were suddenly too weak to hold me up, and I was shaking violently.

I waited for it: a slap, a word, anything to complete my humiliation.

Erik kissed me. He wrapped his lips around mine, wet and soft and warm and gentle, and I was frozen in place. He moved his lips to my ear.

"Z, why did you do that?" his voice was hesitant and shaky and impossibly tender.

* * *

Ending note: I debated and debated – end this chapter before or after the kiss? I hope you liked my choice. Just a caution about the next chapter: as I'm writing now (but things can change, like they did from how I planned this chapter verses how it turned out), this…act…doesn't fix thing between Zoey and Erik, but it does put them on more equal footing, and if I can get them to talk out a few important things, I think their relationship will get better. There might be another lemon right away, there might not...

I'll still come back to Zoey and Stark, and Zoey and Heath will…talk, too.

And there _is_ a plot forming here somewhere…. (like calling a pet:) _Plot… plot… here plot…  
_


	7. Erik and a land of confusion

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so long! I found it so hard to get Erik and Zoey to talk! In the books, most of the time they make up after their fights by quoting plays and talking about old books, (along with some intense making out :-D)!

Another long chapter here- I just couldn't end it when things looked so grim in the middle.

I realized that to make this story work the way I want, - as much as I'm a Stark girl – I need to fall in love with Erik, too. I'm getting there :-).

**Disclaimer: Still just playing in the House of Night playground...

* * *

Erik pulled back slightly to look in my eyes, his hands still cradling my face. His beautiful blue eyes held the kindest, most gentle expression I'd ever seen. A sob ripped out of me and I cried harder. I just couldn't process his expression – wasn't he supposed to be calling me a slut by now? Wasn't he going to push me out the door?

His expression hardened instantly into the mask that I feared and despised. He dropped his hands and moved to stand up. "Sorry that was so…_unpleasant_ for you," he spat.

"What? _NO_!" I cried. I lurched for him, totally ungracefully, and managed to catch his arm.

"What, Zoey?" He snarled. His eyes were hard and his face was full of contempt. He pulled his arm out of my grasp and I nearly fell over, catching myself on the carpet. I let myself stay there, hunched over and crying.

_Please no._ What went wrong? For just a second I had my sweet Erik back.

"P-p-please," I stammered, trying to talk through my blubbering. I wasn't even sure what I was trying to say.

"What, Zoey?" Erik interrupted, "You don't have to blow me again, you already got me off."

My chest – and my throat – hurt and burned like he'd kicked me. I doubled over and swallowed, hard, to keep from vomiting. All the blood seemed to drain from me and I was crying, freezing cold, shaking, and violently nauseous. _Stupid stupid stupid._

I'd begged him, and he let me take him in my mouth. He'd caressed my hair. He'd kissed me so gently that my lips still tingled with the memory. He'd looked in my eyes like he still loved me.

Then he basically told me that I was a worthless whore.

I felt ripped open, like the raven-mocker attack all over again. I wanted Erik's gentle expression and soft kiss back so bad that the wish choked me. I was sobbing so hard that I was snotting all over myself and gasping for air. My tears were falling on my jeans and soaking my thighs.

I knew I was being stupid and selfish. I loved Stark. It didn't matter what Erik said to me. It didn't matter what I felt for Erik, no matter how strong. It didn't matter that I couldn't give Erik up. I'd cheated on him. _Again. _I'd been stupid to think that he wouldn't hate me. I'd been absolutely arrogant to think that he'd still _want_ me.

I tried to get my tears and sobbing under control enough so that I could at least get up and leave – right now I could barely move. I concentrated on taking deep breaths, which came out all shaky and jerky. I was actually getting embarrassed that I was crying so hard. _I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it, _I chanted in my head. This is what I wanted – to give him a chance to hurt me back. I was still stupidly surprised that it hurt so much.

It took a while – a really _long_ while, with lots more snotting and shaking and crying - but slowly, painstakingly, I got my breathing to smooth out and the tears to stop pouring. A few still trickled down my cheeks, but at least the torrent was under control. But I was still grossly snotting and dripping tears all over myself. I desperately needed a tissue – or a handful.

I tried to look around for something to wipe my face, and tried to keep my mind blank. Every time I breathed I felt Erik's sweet kiss on my lips, and the tears kept threatening to start all over again. I focused on Erik's dark bedroom and tried not to feel.

Just like his living room, Erik's bedroom didn't give me much in the way of distractions. The lights were still off in the room, but with my fledgling night-vision, the light coming through the door was illumination enough. He had a bed, a nightstand with a lamp and few books on it, a dresser, and a little mini-fridge in the corner. (Okay, it's official: apparently everyone has one except me.) That was it. Still, no posters, still no pictures. There were more doors, to a closet and the bathroom, I assumed. He did have a dark blue comforter on his bed, but no matching or contrasting pillows – a wry thought passed through my head that his decorating masculinity was still intact.

"Would you like a tissue?" Erik asked quietly. I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Somehow I'd managed to not look at him - he was sitting right there on the side of his bed. He was kind of bent over, his elbows on his knees.

I hesitated, and then finally nodded. He handed me a box of tissues and I wiped off my face and blew my nose – which ended up being really loud and snotty wet and more than a little embarrassing.

Then we sat there in more silence, our breathing the only thing breaking the stillness. I ended up staring at Erik's feet. I could have turned my body so I was looking at a wall or something, but I didn't. I knew I should just leave, but even though I wasn't crying any more I was just too exhausted and I didn't want to move.

Erik took a deep breath and my eyes were drawn to him like a magnet. I saw his shoulders tense and felt my own body tense in response. He looked like he was struggling to find the words he wanted. "Was it…really…that bad, Z?" He finally asked softy.

I couldn't process his question. Our eyes connected for a second. He looked a little angry, a little hurt, and really, really vulnerable. "What?" I winced, suddenly worried that his anger could flare again.

I was relieved when he just shrugged uncomfortably. "I mean… I guess most girls don't like to… so I probably shouldn't have gotten mad…"

_Sorry that was so unpleasant for you_. _I guess most girls don't like to…_ What the heck was he asking? About…in my mouth? _Crap. _Maybe it was horrible for him. Maybe I did it wrong. Or maybe – okay, I was getting paranoid here – maybe he was able to act around me after all. Maybe that vulnerable look was just his way of getting me to say I liked it so he could rip me open again.

But just maybe – hope fluttered in my chest – maybe _he_ made a mistake and was trying to make me feel better.

I decided it didn't matter. I couldn't let myself hope that he still cared, and if he wanted to hurt me again, he could.

_Ah, hell. _I never used to be this masochistic.

I took a deep breath and look directly in his eyes. I spoke clearly, but I couldn't quite get my voice above a whisper. "I liked making you feel good."

He searched my eyes, maybe trying to decide if I was telling the truth. Then he dropped his head in his hands. "I really am an asshole," he murmured.

Confusion and relief and pain washed over me. I wished I could let myself hope.

After a long, long pause he looked up. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly. My heart caught in my throat and my tears escaped again as I heard the kindness and regret in his voice. I wanted to throw myself into his arms.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I didn't realize that you didn't know…"

He flinched, and I cringed. "I'm trying to apologize to you," he said.

My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could hear it. I shook my head, "I hurt you first."

He sighed and slid down to the floor. He opened his arms, inviting me into his embrace. His eyes were kind. I wanted to hurl myself at him, but at the same time I couldn't help but hesitate. "Please," he said – and his lips twitched in an ironic, pained, half-smile.

I didn't want him to beg. I crawled over and let him enfold me in his arms. The Goddess-given, beautiful (but dang confusing) sense of _rightness_ absolutely engulfed me and I laid my head on his shoulder. He reached over to stroke my hair. My body trembled at his touch, and for a minute I honestly couldn't decide if I was afraid of him or getting turned on. Then I couldn't decide which was worse.

Erik took a deep, shuddering breath and I could feel his chest rise and fall and quake against the side of my body. I froze, afraid of what was coming. I couldn't bear to look in his eyes. I could feel the tension in him, but his hand kept stroking my hair with the same gentle strokes and the same slow rhythm.

He didn't say anything, and slowly I was able to relax again. _Crap._ Was I seriously going to jump every time he breathed funny?

I didn't trust him. Before, I just didn't trust him physically - on the whole he-wants-more-sex-than-I'm-ready-to-give-him level. But now, as much as I didn't want to blame him for lashing out at me, it seemed like I didn't trust him emotionally anymore, either. Worse, after Heath, Loren, _and_ Stark, I couldn't see Erik ever trusting _me_ again.

But the thought of giving up on him – on _us_ - hurt as much as the thought of breaking my Imprint with Heath.

"What just happened?" I whispered hesitantly into his collarbone.

He stopped stroking my hair and wrapped his arms around me tightly, holding onto me like he was afraid I would disappear. _Maybe he's as messed up as I am, _I realized – maybe understanding him for the first time tonight_. _ I took a deep breath and made myself relax. In response, his grasp loosened and he held me less frantically. His new hold was actually so careful, so gentle, and so sweet, that I started to feel safe in his arms. He kissed my forehead and took in a shaky breath. "I don't know, Z."

"We're really bad at this, aren't we?" I was actually kind of referring to the entire history of our relationship. I couldn't believe that all day I thought that I could just come upstairs and have sex with him and that everything would be fine and that the only person I would be hurting would be Stark. I was an idiot.

"We'll get better." His hold on me was briefly desperate again, needy. It was like he was trying to promise me and ask for reassurance at the same time.

I shifted in his arms so I could look up at him. Our eyes met, and I studied his face, following the curves and swirls of the intricate sapphire Vampyre tattoo that spread across his forehead. I shifted my gaze to his amazing bright blue eyes, which were intense and worried and kind. He was looking just as deeply into my eyes, and I wished I could know what he saw. There was no sign of the cruel, angry mask he'd shown me earlier tonight. This was my Erik. Once again, I was overwhelmed by a sweet, wonderful, (but still incredibly confusing!) sense of _rightness._

But…a hundred inconvenient thoughts were going though my head. I knew I had to be totally and completely honest with him now, before this went any further. But I _really_ didn't want to. I held his gaze, trying not to be scared. I brought my hand up and rested it on his cheek, and he turned his face slightly and pressed his lips against my palm. I blinked back the tears that filled my eyes for the gazillionth time tonight.

"I want to try. I promise I do." I told him. I tried to make the strength of my promise overwhelm any fear or hurt in my eyes. But I had to say this now, no matter what his reaction was going to be. "You are" – my voice faltered just a little – "_really_ important to me. But…so are Stark and Heath. I know it makes me a horrible girlfriend and pretty much a skanky ho… But this is apparently my life now." I left out the whole Nyx revelation. I knew I was being selfish, but I didn't want him to agree to be with me just because the Goddess said so.

I knew I was hoping for a lot. I didn't love Erik; I loved Stark. But I felt something for Erik that seemed nearly as strong as my Imprint with Heath. I needed to know that he felt something for me, too, despite the hurtful things that I'd done and that he'd said. I suddenly remembered the time after class a few weeks ago when I'd (painfully) offered to break up with him and he'd refused – he'd even said he loved me and that we'd figure things out with Stark and Heath. Could he still mean that, now that sex was complicating everything even worse? Especially after we'd just gone another round of our disturbingly common fights – where I-screw-up-badly-and-Erik-says-horrible-things-to-me?

I'd looked down after my little speech, more than a little embarrassed to spell out the semi-pornographic, angsty teen drama my life was at the moment. I also didn't want to see Erik's eyes while he thought about what I'd just said. His body didn't immediately tense up around me, though, so I took another chance and laid my head back on his shoulder and dropped my hand to my lap. Erik surprised me by entwining his long fingers with mine.

"What does…Heath" – I could hear the distaste in his voice, but at least he didn't sound mad – "think about…me and Stark?"

More evidence that I barely knew Erik at all: I had no idea he would ask that. I struggled to find the right way to explain Heath. "Heath…doesn't know…everything." I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts better. "The Imprint really messed up things for us. I'm not sure how much of my feelings for him are from when we were dating or from the Imprint. Our Imprint is…really strong, though, but I'm worried that it's bad for him. Basically, we need to talk." I bit my lip and cringed. I was afraid I'd just said way too much – and still didn't really answer Erik's question – then Erik squeezed my hand in a way that felt…comforting.

"And you already said Stark told you to sleep with me." I tensed up, waiting for the axe to fall. But he let go of my hand and wrapped his arms around me again. He pressed his cheek against my forehead. "I'm not going to get mad again," he assured me. "I promise. I just have to know. I don't understand."

"Stark…understands," I answered, kind of evasively. Then I continued quickly, "I'll explain, I promise. Just not tonight, okay?"

"When?" he asked, still holding me close.

"I don't know -" and my mouth did that thing where it bypassed my brain again – "Sunday night?" I don't know why I said it, but I actually felt Erik _smile._

"It's a date," he answered, actually sounding almost confident and kind of happy. Then I felt his smile disappear. I tensed up again and he rubbed my arm reassuringly. "I was just wondering if you'd…stay with me tonight."

I didn't exactly relax. We still _really_ needed to talk before we had sex, right? I mean, I…had him in my mouth, but my reasons for doing it were pretty extreme, and it didn't seem to work out all that well, anyway. But if I was going to sleep with him anyway _sometime _soon... I was still determined to stay on the Goddess's path - as horrible as tonight had been, I would still carry out her plans...when I was ready... I didn't think he'd be mad at me if I said no tonight, but at this point, after everything, it seemed wrong and almost silly to turn him down…

Erik's body shifted around me, and before I could follow his movements he had my face cradled between his hands, his bright blue eyes looking straight into mine. "I'm not asking you to have sex with me, I swear. I just…don't want to let you go tonight." He actually smiled again, and I smiled back tentatively as I heard him kind of echo my own words from earlier this evening. I was relieved and a little hopeful that he didn't sound mad at all. He took a deep breath, "I just want to…sleep with you. Just sleep."

I flashed back to the first time Stark and I slept together – just slept – and my stomach did a weird little uncomfortable twist. Looking back on it, that had ended up to be kind of a special night for Stark and me. Could I share something that…intimate… with Erik, too? I mean, okay, I was being ridiculous. I was still planning to have sex with him sometime soon, I'd already had him…in my mouth. But sleeping with Stark had been kind of…sweet. I guess I felt like I'd be betraying Stark if I slept with Erik like that…

I looked back up to Erik's eyes and saw worry and vulnerability cloud them as I considered my answer. I couldn't stand hurting him again, not over this. I wasn't betraying Stark, I was trying to stop hurting Erik. "Of course I'll stay."

Erik looked incredibly relieved, then smiled, leaned forward, and kissed my forehead softly. His kiss was warm and gentle and sweet and it didn't bring tears to my eyes this time. For just a moment, my heart felt lighter and I felt…_happy_. I reached up and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him close to me. He wrapped his long arms around around me in return and enveloped me in a huge, enthusiastic hug. I felt a strong surge of hope and I let myself feel it for a moment, instead of trying to squash it like a bug.

Erik broke the hug, and I was surprised to realize that it was over too soon for me. I wanted to keep his arms around me, to keep the warmth and the pressure of his body against mine. I realized I was actually glad that I said that I would stay.

Erik got me a clean t-shirt and boxers to sleep in, found an extra toothbrush for me, and let me change in the bathroom. I washed my face, put my hair in a ponytail and tried not to look at my reflection. My face was pretty hideous, still really red and blotchy and swollen from crying. I took a few deep breaths. Tonight had been hard, but it seemed like we were doing a little better. We were talking. We weren't having sex yet. We were being honest with each other. Maybe we could make this work.

Or maybe I was still being an idiot. But for the rest of the night I was going to try to pretend that everything would be okay.

I finished and came out, and awkwardly crawled straight into Erik's bed. It wasn't very late, but I was exhausted. Erik took his turn in the bathroom. I was surprised to hear him shower, but he didn't take very long. He came out wearing a clean t-shirt and boxers, and he looked kind of…hot.

I rolled over and snuggled under the covers, trying to forget how gorgeous he was. We had enough problems without me losing my mind and jumping him just because he was so insanely good-looking. I heard him turn out the lights in the living room, and felt the weight and warmth and pressure of his body when he joined me in his bed. He seemed to hesitate, then his words floated over to me through the darkness. "Can I…hold you?"

I was suddenly tense. Not scared. Just…unsure. I usually fell asleep laying on Stark's chest with his arms wrapped around me. We fit together. Sleeping with Stark was easy. Sleeping with Erik was just…unknown. I just didn't know how to _be_ with another man. "Okay?" I answered, not meaning for it to sound like a question.

Erik seemed to get that I was nervous, and moved slowly, letting me get used to the feel of his body next to mine. Slowly, gently, he wrapped himself around me. I was still curled up on my side with the covers cocooned around me, which turned into a kind of unintentional barrier between us. He tugged the sheets and comforter loose and I let him, and he slid in closer, pressing his body against mine. I relaxed into him and realized - with hope and happiness and sadness and guilt and confusion - that _we_ fit pretty well together, too.

I mentally debated for just a second, then decided that, just for tonight, I was also going to try not to feel worried or guilty about being with Erik. We nestled together, and I let myself enjoy how the curve of my body fit perfectly into the curve of his. I snuggled backwards into him, and let myself savor the feeling of his warm, lean, muscular body wrapped around mine. He kissed my shoulder. His body was different from Stark's, but I was surprised at how quickly I got used to the differences. We both shifted a little, finding just the right ways to match up our bodies. When we were both comfortable, I felt Erik inhale shakily, then he hesitantly snaked his arm around my waist and up my body. Then he gently wrapped his arm around me and curled his hand around my shoulder.

I took a deep breath of my own, turned my head, and kissed his hand as gently as I could.

I laid there with him, still a tiny bit tense, but mostly comfortable and kind of happy. I realized that I was also a little turned on and that confused and worried me all over again – not to mention everything _else _in our relationship that I could be confused and worried about… But I made myself focus on the warmth of Erik's body, the tender way he wrapped his arm around me, the sound of his slow, steady breathing, and the sweet hesitancy in his voice when he asked if he could hold me.

Then I let myself relax, to really trust him, and to feel safe in his arms, even if it was only for tonight.

* * *


	8. Kalona, and Giving Erik a Chance

Okay, this next section of the story is getting _insanely _long _and_ I'm getting stuck in a few places towards the end. It's driving me crazy! Rather than wait another month until I finish the whole dang thing, I'm going to start cutting up what I have so far into shorter chapters, editing it, and posting what I've got so far. Let me know what you think! Maybe it will help me rethink the places where I'm stuck!

* * *

I was on an island – or at least a beach. It wasn't the same watery place from Aphrodite's vision, though. It was night, but the moonlight was bright and harsh, giving everything sharp and otherworldly edges. The shadows were black and thick and they practically oozed. The sound of the waves was a soft whisper. I could see a few buildings – they looked like little cottages. Shadowy palm trees dipped their fronds over the cottages, almost hiding them from sight.

Kalona (_ah, crap_) stepped out of the shadows and unfurled his midnight wings; they shone like polished obsidian in the moonlight. The muscles of his bare chest rippled, and his casually torn cut-off jeans were low and tight around his hips. But it was his eyes that drew me in – warm amber orbs that trapped me willingly in their sticky depths. I couldn't pull away, and I didn't want to.

I stepped forward, and a slight breeze caressed my body intimately. The air wrapped around my waist and flowed over…other parts…of my body. Great. I was naked. Crap.

Kalona remained motionless under the trees. His eyes held mine. He didn't speak.

I knew he was evil. I knew he only wanted me because he thought I was the reincarnation of his A-ya. I knew whatever he wanted to do with me if I _was_ his A-ya would not be anything good. I knew that he would destroy me if I got in his way.

None of that mattered when I looked in his eyes. He was like the most powerful magnet in the world, drawing me in. I took another step closer to him. He was still a dozen or so steps away, but both the steps that I'd taken toward him so far had sent waves of desire washing over me. My skin was absolutely electrified, and he hadn't even come close to touching me.

He was evil, yet he made my body feel things that no guy had ever made me feel before. Making love with Stark didn't come close. Neither did drinking Heath's blood. But Kalona's very presence set me ablaze.

As I got closer, my hair – which I'd pulled forward to cover my boobs – was blown back over my shoulders by a gentle breeze. Instead of feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, I felt Kalona's hungry eyes on my naked body and I felt bold. Just a few more strides and I would be close enough to touch him.

I was on fire, and my only hope in that moment was that the icy heat of Kalona's body would somehow quench the burning desire in mine.

* * *

…I opened my eyes, and all I could see was Erik's gorgeous face. Not that I'm complaining. He was crouched next to the bed at eye level with me, and I was cocooned in his dark blue comforter, nearly falling off the side of the bed. It didn't take me long at all to realize that the Kalona stuff was a nightmare. Well..._poopie_.

I mentally shook myself, but luckily - even though the the dream / nightmare stayed vivid - my body's reactions to Kalona were fading fast. Besides, Kalona might leave me senseless in my dreams, but here in reality I had more important things to think about- much more important than some evil immortal that wanted to make me his bride. And one of those important things - Erik - was right in front of me.

Erik's gorgeous blue eyes were inches from mine, and I nearly reached out to touch him. I couldn't read the emotion I saw in his eyes, though, and my stomach clenched. Last night was like a puke-inducing roller coaster, and I couldn't be sure that it was over. We _seemed_ to be okay by the end of the night, but we still had a lot more issues that we hadn't dealt with yet. I still couldn't quite believe that last night had ended with us spooning and cuddling in his bed and _not_ having sex. Did things between us really change for the better? Or were his eyes now telling me something different?

His eyes softened, and he smiled. I know he said he couldn't act around me very well, but was he trying anyway? Which face was real? The look he was giving me now seemed so genuinely happy that my heart just about skipped a beat. I was still horribly confused about Nyx's plans and my own ho-ish tendencies, but more than anything at that moment, I wanted _that _smile to be real. "Good morning, Z.," he said softly, still smiling, stroking my cheek.

And of course the first thing I did was yawn – hugely and unattractively. I buried my face in the pillow, just a little embarrassed. "'morning," I answered into the pillow.

Erik nudged me to scoot away from the edge of the bed, then sat on the bed next to me by my hip and rubbed my back. "I got breakfast," he said, like this was a completely normal occurrence and this was a completely normal morning. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear, trying to tempt me to get up. "I think I remembered it right. Brown pop – not diet, Count Chocula…" So Erik got up to get me breakfast and left me sleeping alone, and Kalona stepped in. Double poopie. My mind slammed back to the nightmare / seductive image of Kalona under the shadowy palms. Would a more colorful swear word be appropriate here?

But okay, the boy was really trying, and it wasn't his fault Kalona was in my dream – I never told him not to leave me sleeping alone. Heck, Stark had left me the morning he'd ended up getting his revelation from Nyx, and my dreams then stayed Kalona-free. Of course, we hadn't tested that theory any further - Stark slept with me every night. Except for last night, of course.

Stark. Crap crap crap. My eyes burned and I was glad my face was hidden in the pillow so Erik couldn't see my tears. For just a second, my heart ached to see _Stark's _brown eyes instead of Erik's blue ones. I yearned to wake up in _Stark's_ arms instead of to Erik's thoughtful breakfast in bed. What was I doing?

Okay, mental deep breath. Nyx wanted this, Stark understood, and I _did_ want Erik, too. I just didn't know how the hell it was going to work.

But if I was going to truly give my whateverthehellthisis with Erik a chance, I couldn't be longing for Stark or worrying about Kalona. So I let myself ache for Stark for just a minute more, then gently pushed all thoughts of him to the back of my mind to deal with later. If I could deal with everything while actually _being_ in his arms later I wouldn't complain a bit... Then I turned my thoughts to Kalona. I mentally incinerated all thoughts of him – including my frightening, bizarre, and above all _strong_ attraction for him – then stomped on the ashes, drowned them, and scattered them with a hurricane-force wind. And no, I don't think that was overkill, even if I was only attacking what was in my head.

But back to Stark. I had to trust that Stark and I would be okay and that I would be back in his arms soon. I had to believe that wanting Erik's arms around me too would somehow work out. As for Kalona…it really wasn't a surprise that he was still around. And it definitely wasn't a surprise – though pretty damn nauseating, considering all my other guy issues – that my body still responded to him in really overwhelming ways. But luckily, I had some awesome and really powerful and really smart friends - even if we were all mostly just fledglings - and I didn't have to deal with Kalona alone. I would tell everyone and we'd figure out what to do about Kalona, and soon - just not right now.

I probably should have told Erik about my dream right away, but I was determined to give us a chance this morning. Despite our drama last night and despite the unknown emotion I saw in his eyes when he woke me up, he'd also been gentle and kind and not pushed me for sex last night and had been nothing but sweet to me so far this morning. Any talk of Kalona was going to take anything about _us_ off the table pretty quickly, and Kalona had already messed up my life enough. Plus, Erik had just brought me breakfast in bed, which no one, not even Heath, has ever done for me, and I was going to enjoy it!

And above all, Erik had just looked at me like he still cared, gently caressed my cheek, and given me his mega-watt, heart-melting smile. _This_ was the boy/guy/man/vamp that I was so attracted to in the first place and still couldn't let go. He was being my sweet Erik again and I was going to be greedy and enjoy him being like this. I wasn't going to let anything – not my love for Stark, not my terror of / temptation for Kalona – interfere.

And…I couldn't do that if I was hiding in the pillow. I sat up and resisted the urge to fix my hair or rub my eyes and just gave Erik my best morning smile. I saw the cereal and pop on the nightstand, as well as two small bottles of what could only be blood. My mouth watered most at the sight of the blood, and in that instant, I decided that bloodlust was the least of my worries and dangit!, I was going to enjoy my morning blood.

First, though, I threw my arms around Erik and hugged him tight. "Thanks," I said into his neck. His face and neck were scratchy, like he hadn't shaved yet, and I let myself stay there for a second, enjoying the roughness of his skin against my cheek.

He wrapped his arms around me tightly, and I snuggled in closer, really liking how his hard, muscled body felt pressed against mine. Then I caught just a hint of desperation in his grip and my heart fell a little. Ah, _hell_. No no no no _no_. "You're welcome," he answered softly.

He broke the hug and got up to move the nightstand over in front of me by the bed – making it into my own little breakfast table. I tried to concentrate on the good parts so far this morning and not freak just yet. Erik smiling. Erik's gentle fingers against my cheek. Erik bringing me breakfast in bed. Erik hugging me. I was _not_ obsessing over this slightest hint that something was bothering him and that I might not have my sweet Erik back after all.

Ah, hell, of course I was. The problem was, there was just so much messed up with us that could still be wrong! Let's see…Stark, Heath, the fact that we weren't having sex yet, the fact that he was technically my professor and I just spent the night in his bed, any leftover issues with Loren…. There was so much that I couldn't even be sure what it was safe to say, and I was actually almost frightened that we could end up with a repeat of last night. I really didn't want to say the wrong thing, so I stayed quiet and moved to start in on my breakfast.

I threw off the covers and sat criss-cross on the bed in front of my breakfast table / nightstand. I drank the blood first and it was amazing, of course. _Really_ amazing…. Then Erik sat back down beside me, radiating tension, and I lost my appetite. Reality came crashing down again. We really weren't okay.

"Can we talk about last night?" He asked finally.

* * *

Sorry to cut it there! I'll get the next bit edited and posted in a day or two-ish!


	9. First half of Erik's confession

Another short bit, the first half of Erik's confession.

* * *

"_Can we talk about last night?" He asked finally. _

My heart dropped further and my stomach twisted. "Okay," I whispered. I knew we had more to talk about, but I'd thought we'd at least worked through our issues from last night. I'd apologized, he'd apologized; he'd hugged me and asked me to sleep with him and _not_ have sex with him and he'd held me all night. I'd really thought that if we were going to have more drama, it would be from our other issues. Apparently I was wrong. _Crap._

I had to be glad that he was _asking,_ though. This was different than his usual pattern of jumping to conclusions, getting mad, and lashing out at me. If I got a vote, I preferred the asking.

He was perched on the side of the bed next to me, his elbows on his knees, kind of hunched over. It was the same pose he'd been in last night when we'd finally started talking - instead of yelling or…well, my other attempt to make things better. Did he sit there like that on purpose, or was it just that there wasn't anywhere else in his bedroom to sit?

So he sat there, and I watched his whole body try to curl inward. He looked at his hands, and his voice was so low I could barely hear him. "Did I…do anything to… hurt you?"

His question completely threw me. I cried so hard last night that my whole body ached this morning, but I was pretty sure that wasn't what he was asking. He looked so miserable that I didn't even want to ask him what he meant. I just answered, "You hurt my feelings," and I shrugged and tried to leave it at that.

But Erik whispered, "Sorry," really huskily, like he was trying not to get emotional. My heart spasmed a little in response.

Even quieter, if that was even possible, he asked, "did I…make you do anything do didn't want to do?

I was almost relieved at this question. I was able to answer it without even thinking. "No. Nothing."

I still had no idea what was wrong, no idea how I could make it better, but at least I was on more solid ground here. He may have been angry and said horrible things to me last night, but everything I did was my choice. Even taking him…in my mouth…was my choice. As mortifying as it was to think about it, _now_... Hell, I'd even begged him.

"Okay," he breathed, and sounded relieved. He raised his head and his amazing, expressive blue eyes met mine. I saw relief, but also confusion and pain. "Z., I'm sorry for hurting your feelings," he said. He coughed out a short, humorless laugh and added, "I know it was a lot worse than that."

Erik looked down again, and rested his head in his hands. "I know…what I said…was horrible. It's no excuse, but I was just stunned. We were fighting, and then you…" he glanced up and gave me a weak smile. "Since Blake, I haven't even been able to _touch_ you without you pulling away, then we're fighting and you…"

He shook his head, dropped it back down, and fisted his hair in his hands. "I couldn't get my brain to work, I couldn't understand _why._ And you were crying. You were…amazing…and then you were crying. I could only think…and I said…what I did." _You don't have to blow me again, you already got me off_.

"Then you cried harder and I realized that maybe you just didn't like it, and I…hoped…that was why you were crying. I hoped it wasn't the…other things…I thought. I know I made it worse by what…I said… But…either you didn't like it or it's what I…thought… because you were already crying _before_ I…hurt your feelings.

He stayed hunched over, sitting next to me on the side of the bed, and looked…pained. I didn't know what to say. That was about the most awkward speech I'd heard out of any guy, and I couldn't even be quite sure what he was trying to tell me. I still felt awful. I should have stopped him, _I_ should be the one saying I was sorry. I'd basically cheated on him twice; all he did was said mean things and hurt my feelings. Not exactly the same level of pain.

But I didn't stop him. It was wrong of me; I was being stupid and immature, but I _needed_ him to say he was sorry. No matter how much I deserved it, I _needed_ him to explain. How he could he be sweet and caring one second and cruel and hateful the next?

_I could only think…then I said… _and what was he _not_ saying? _What_ did he think that made him say what he did? How could I keep him from doing it again?

Erik sighed and shifted up onto the bed a little more, and turned to face me. I looked down and ran my fingers along the edge dark blue comforter, just to give my hands something to do. While I was avoiding his eyes, Erik reached over and brushed my hair – the messy strands that had worked their way loose from my pony tail - back from my face.

I looked up and he half-smiled at me. I tried to smile back, but I'm not sure if I pulled it off. Then he continued, not seeming to mind that I hadn't said anything. "I held you all night and I could barely sleep. All I could think was that you were crying _before_ I said…what I did. Then I started to panic. I realized I could have hurt you, or forced you without meaning to, and that was why you cried." He paused and carefully cupped my cheek in his hand. His bright blue eyes were intense as he searched my face and looked deep into my eyes. "Are you sure that I didn't?"

Okay, this didn't explain why he was angry – and the way he was talking _around_ whyhe'd been angry was making me crazy. But at this moment, this was more important. Worrying that he'd hurt me or forced me – when he definitely didn't - said tons about the kind of guy he was. My reasons for taking him…in my mouth… were pretty extreme and very possibly not very rational, but he didn't take advantage of me at all. He'd been so angry that things could have easily gotten out of control and ended badly in any number of ways, but they didn't. And now he was worried that he'd still somehow hurt me or forced me. _This _was the great guy I'd been falling for before my romantic life went to hell. I still needed to know what he'd thought or assumed that made him so hateful, but right now I was more than happy to reassure him about this.

He'd shifted enough that he was almost facing me. I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward, putting my hands on his legs just above his knees and looked intently into his worried blue eyes. "You didn't do _anything_ wrong," I told him, with as much conviction as I could. "I knew _exactly_ what I was doing." Then I realized how that sounded and backtracked, more than a little embarrassed, "well, not _exactly…" _and from the burning I felt in my face and neck and arms, I'm pretty sure I turned about eight shades of red.

Erik actually smiled, though, and rubbed my cheek in a way that was almost…reassuring. I met his eyes again and squeezed his legs in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture of my own. "I promise." I told him. "You didn't hurt me and you didn't force me. You were actually really…nice." My voice faltered a little, though, and it was hard to keep looking at him. He'd been wonderful, actually, then…

"Until I said…" Erik finished for me, and this time I felt the stab of the words he didn't repeat.

* * *

Sorry for stopping it here! The next part is one of the spots where I'm having trouble, so it may take me another couple days to figure it out - Erik finally admits what he thought, but I'm having trouble with Zoey's reaction...


	10. Erik admits the rest

As always, everything House of Night belongs to the Casts - I'm just playing in their playground!

* * *

_Erik actually smiled, though, and rubbed my cheek in a way that was almost…reassuring. I met his eyes again and squeezed his legs in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture of my own. "I promise." I told him. "You didn't hurt me and you didn't force me. You were actually really…nice." My voice faltered a little, though, and it was hard to keep looking at him. He'd been wonderful, actually, then…_

"_Until I said…" Erik finished for me, and this time I felt the stab of the words he didn't repeat._

_*************************************************************_

"Yeah," I answered. The full weight of last night settled on my shoulders again, obliterating everything but the echo of his words in my head. _You don't have to blow me again, you already got me off. _My throat closed up. My chest felt like someone kicked me. He hated me. I deserved it. He didn't want me anymore.

I forced myself to stay sitting up straight, instead of doubling over and curling up in a little ball on the bed like I wanted to. I stared into his gorgeous blue eyes and tried to make my breathing seem normal. His hand still cupped my cheek, and the warmth and…tenderness…of his touch was both comforting and confusing. I closed my eyes, still leaving my hands resting just above his knees. I breathed deep and tried to stop being such a baby about this.

Feeling the warmth of his body under my hands helped me remember that he wasn't saying it _again._ I was able to relax a little more when I remembered that he was even trying to apologize. This wasn't last night. Things were a lot better now. He wasn't been mean, he was actually apologizing. He was even being worried and kind of sweet to me. We were practically _talking._

_Ah, hell. _He'd started this whole conversation asking if we could talk, but the thing is, we just weren't very _good_ at talking. We did a lot better when we had someone else's story to hide behind. Let's see, we did really great expressing our feelings when he'd made me do the _Othello _Shakespearian improv (and _yay_ for that in-front-of-the-whole-class humiliation…). Getting our feelings out that way, as mortifying as it was, actually did help. Then, after we escaped Kalona and hid in the tunnels, we'd connected in a really sweet way talking about _Dracula. _We were able to tiptoe around each other and feel our way to see if we could really forgive each other. We even got to talk a little about our hopes for the future. So that was good, too.

But just straight out talking? When it was about tough, emotional stuff we had to process between us? Without a book or movie or play or TV show to help us pretend that we weren't really talking about us? Well, we did do a fair amount of snapping at each other, and occasionally screaming at each other… But yeah, when you took away the snapping and yelling, too, there just wasn't much _talking _going on. And right now I really couldn't think of any story in any format that we could use to help us deal with our issues right now.

My brain kept going as I just sat there, eyes closed, my hands just above Erik's knees, his hand still warming my cheek. He probably thought I was being really weird, just sitting there, not moving and not talking. I just had to take the time to _think_, and leaving or hiding in the bathroom would probably be rude. So I was just going to have to be a dork and look like I was having a brain hemorrhage or something in the middle of our conversation.

But as long as I was being a dork… Me and Erik. Talking. Crap.

I knew I wasn't being fair. Not only in this entire situation but specifically right now. I was still hurt by the singe sentence he said last night, but here I was thinking about _talking,_ and the last thing I wanted to do was _talk_ to Erik about what he'd said to me. I felt even worse when I realized that _he was_ trying to talk about last night, and I was basically still being a sissy about it.

He'd even apologized – twice - once last night and once just now. So why was I still hung up on what he'd said? Oh yeah, because my sweet, kind, gentle, worried Erik regularly turned into a cruel, hateful, mean, jerk.

I let my mind wander a bit more (yes, still just sitting there…) and wondered if this one sentence by itself wasn't _so_ bad. Yes, if it was a one-time thing it would still be mean and hateful, but maybe I was so hung up on it because it was pretty much just one _more_ time that he'd been mean to me. Maybe I wouldn't be quite this hung up on it if it wasn't part of a _pattern._

Then again, maybe if his nastiness last night had been a one-time thing, maybe I'd have been smart enough to just walk away. If anyone else had said the kinds of things he'd said to me I definitely would have walked away a long time ago... But I _wasn't_ walking away, and Nyx didn't _want_ me to walk away. So - if I didn't like what he said to me, I was going to have to talk to him about it.

My mind took another path, because, of course, us fighting and hurting each other had been going on so long now that there was a history to consider. And as long as I was having (what probably looked like) a mini-seizure and not talking to him, I should consider all the angles. And this one was important.

Until last night, he only said mean and hateful things when it involved me and another guy. And yes, it was all kinds of wrong that "me and another guy" issues came up often enough that there was an actual pattern to Erik's reactions. But at least that was a reason I understood, and even accepted a little responsibility for (but I promise I've seen enough Oprah to know that no matter what one person does, it doesn't make it okay for the other person to be mean and cruel – I just mean that Erik's reactions at least made sense).

But last night was different. Last night he'd been hateful because I was crying. That wasn't normal, right? Guys don't usually get _mad_ when a girl cries. I had no idea what that was all about and it freaked me out more than a little that I couldn't figure him out.

But that only brought me back to talking. Again. If I wanted to end it I should end it. If I wanted to know why he was so awful I had to _ask_ him_. Ah, hell. _Taking him…in my mouth…was easier than this.

Okay, one last thing to consider. Erik was trying, and by more than just apologizing. He'd actually been brave enough to ask if he'd hurt me or forced me. And he really hadn't been sure. I can't imagine any guy – anyone who wasn't a psychopath anyway, and Erik might have a temper but he definitely wasn't evil – but any guy would hate to think that he'd actually forced himself on a girl. So for Erik to ask, thinking that that really could have been why I was crying, was really pretty courageous. All I needed to know was what he was thinking that made him act so mean and nasty to me. That shouldn't be anywhere near as hard to ask about.

And… okay, that wasn't the only last thing… Realistically, we had to figure out how to talk to each other, eventually at least, and it might as well start now. If I wanted to get past this one incident (our others would probably come back to haunt us, but I could barely handle this one right now, so just one thing at a time…) we needed to talk. In fact, if I – we – were going to try to make something work for longer than just this morning, we were going to have to talk on a _regular_ _basis_.

Considering the fairly revolting foursome that was brewing with me and my (current...yes, I'm a ho…) three guys, our _talking_ wasn't likely to regularly involve fluffy bunnies and rainbows, either. No matter how long this lasted, we were probably going to have _lots_ of hard stuff to talk about. We might as well start practicing. We might as well figure out how to talk about the painful crap from the beginning.

So…I guess it was time to get out of my head and start talking to him.

I pulled my hands back to my own lap and took a deep breath. He dropped his hand from my cheek, but my skin still tingled as the ghost of his touch still lingered. I forced myself to look back in his eyes. He still didn't look mad. Even after all that silence from me, he'd waited patiently. If I could really believe what was in his eyes I'd say he looked…ashamed.

I got practically a whole paragraph ready to go in my head, ready to _talk. _ (_Um, Erik, why were you so mean? I don't understand why me crying made you so mad. You keep saying you were thinking something before you said...what you did to hurt my feelings. What were you thinking before you got so angry?) _But the only thing I managed to say out loud was, "Why?" I tried to make my voice strong, but it only came out in a whisper.

He paused, his eyes hardened for a second, and his jaw clenched. I flinched, and he blew out a breath and grabbed my hand. His long fingers curled around my palm and wrist. "I'm sorry," he said again. His eyes were still partially shadowed and angry, but he was actually pleading, too. It was like he was angry but begging me to understand why. "I'm still…mad," he said quietly. "I can't help it. But I promise I'm not going to go off on you again. I'm just still…having troubling dealing."

"Dealing with what?" The words left my mouth before I could take them back. His hand, wrapped around mine, was gentle and warm but almost too tight. I tried to feel comforted by his touch instead of conflicted that it almost seemed like he was grabbing me. I was also chickening out a little and kind of didn't want to know what he was "dealing with" if he was still angry. It was taking a lot of effort on my part to _not_ yank my hand free.

He was apologizing, though, and it had to be a _good_ thing that he was admitting he was angry, right? Doesn't Oprah say it's not good to hide your feelings? Erik seemed to get mean when he got angry, though, and I just still didn't quite trust him not to rip me apart again, no matter what he said. But I'd just been convincing myself that us talking was a good, necessary thing, so I should probably suck it up and at least listen to his answer.

He grimaced, and his voice was tight as he snapped, "Dealing with you regretting going down on me last night."

_What???_ My confusion must have shown pretty plainly on my face, because confusion mixed in with the anger and frustration on _his_ face almost immediately. His voice was still sharp and angry but had just a hint of uncertainty as he added, "That was why you were crying, right?"

My head was all jumbled up with thoughts and feelings and memories of last night. Okay, yeah, maybe I was regretting it a little now since it didn't seem to help and the aftermath last night and this morning was an emotional minefield. But well, _during, _and right _after…_ Maybe I _should_ have been, considering the circumstances… But regretting…the act…was not even in the top ten things of what was going through my head.

I twisted my wrist a little so I could grasp _his_ hand instead of him grasping mine. I pressed my fingers into his palm. I forgot to be nervous, despite the obvious anger in his voice. Maybe if he understood what I really _was_ thinking and feeling he wouldn't be mad any more. I tried to figure out where to even start…

But okay, I might be getting ahead of myself. If he thought that I regretted…taking him in my mouth…that still didn't quite fit with his hateful reaction. I know guys' brains work differently, so maybe that made sense to him to be angry about? I really thought there had to be more, though…

Maybe I was just doing more avoiding, not wanting to admit everything that was going through my head. Heck, my thoughts and feelings were all over the map and I wasn't even sure what to tell him that would make sense. But…if I knew for sure why he was angry, maybe I could explain it right.

I pulled his hand into my lap and covered it with my other hand, so in an odd way I was kind of cradling part of him in my lap. Okay, yeah, really odd, yes, I'm a dork, but I was going for a comforting gesture and I hoped it felt that way to him.

"Could you…" I started hesitantly; looking carefully into his conflicted blue eyes, "tell me _exactly_ what you were thinking? Why you're still mad now?" I took a deep breath, hoping this was the right thing to say, "Maybe you're wrong."

He blinked, and carefully pulled his hand out of my grasp. So much for being comforting. He clenched his hands and rested them on his lap. His whole body was tense and he looked _really_ uncomfortable. He sat there for a while, very tense, very still, and I wondered if he'd even answer me. I waited as patiently as I could. I'd taken a long time to think things through, he deserved some time to think, too. He finally unclenched his hands and stretched them flat on his legs and looked up into my eyes.

"You were…amazing…" he whispered, looking stressed but not mad any more. I tried to feel good about what was kind of a compliment, but it just seemed _wrong _to be proud of that... I half-smiled at him anyway, because he was still looking at me and I couldn't figure out what other expression should be on my face. He actually smiled back then, and for a second he looked almost relaxed and hopeful and happy. "I was ready to forgive you anything."

But then his jaw clenched and the anger crept back into his face. His voice got hard. "Then I kissed you and you were crying."

I felt a little uneasy and pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs for a little – comfort? protection? - but I kept looking in his eyes. Even though I was a little nervous, he wasn't being mean – not yet anyway. And I could feel the gentle support of my Goddess.

I should have been paying attention for her help this whole time, but with all the emotional whiplash I kind of forgot. But with her encouragement boosting my confidence, I was getting calmer now and feeling more and more certain that if Erik would just tell me what was wrong I could fix it.

Erik continued, and his face was still twisted with anger. His voice was bitter and his blue eyes were as hard as ice as he looked into mine. "You went down on me then you started to cry. Not exactly an ego boost."

He shook his head once, sharply. "Please, tell me I'm wrong," he practically spat at me then, suddenly flat out furious. "Tell me you didn't regret it. Tell me you _weren't_ thinking about Stark the whole time. Tell me you weren't imagining blowing _Heath_ and not me. Tell me it turned you the hell on until you finished and realized you didn't want _me_ after all. Tell me you _want_ me. Tell me you _care_."

He got angrier and louder, leaning forward and practically shouting in my face. I got calmer and more certain and not at all afraid.

Even after I took him in my mouth, he still thought I didn't want him.

My mind was suddenly as clear as glass, and everything totally made sense. _This _was why he'd been so hateful. _This _was why he ripped me open. He was angry because he'd thought that I _didn't_ really want him, that I _didn't_ really care. That I wanted to be with Stark or Heath and _not_ _him_.

Dangit, if Erik had just _asked_ last night we could have avoided all this pain and drama! Geez, something simple like 'hey, why are you crying' -- would that have been so hard? But… okay, considering that I couldn't keep myself from getting involved with three other guys while I was dating him… Considering that he had a quick temper anyway (and _whoa boy_ were we going to have to have talk about _that_, but now was definitely not the time…)… Considering that it had just taken _me_ a nearly out-of-body experience to follow my mind through my wandering maze of concerns to finally decide yes-you-really-should-talk-to-him… Yeah, unfortunately, I could see how he didn't bother to ask and just assumed the worst.

But…if this was why he was angry…could it mean that he still wanted _me_? Despite everything?

Did I want him? Despite everything?

Crap. Despite everything on my end, including the disturbing fact that I was actually starting to feel _less _like a ho for wanting to be with Erik as well as Stark (and very possibly Heath, too… and yeah, I really was going to have to start thinking of Heath in all of this pretty soon)… Despite his temper and jumping to the worst conclusions, despite his uber-jealousy, despite how he'd been too pushy about sex (until recently anyway), despite how we just kept hurting each other, and despite the fact that I loved Stark and I still couldn't name the feelings I had for Erik… Despite everything, I still wanted him…

His face was close enough that it was easy to kiss him. So in a semi-complicated, but surprising smooth sequence of movements, that's what I did. I unwrapped my arms from my legs and grabbed Erik's face between my hands. I rearranged my legs and kind of rolled forward onto my knees, and let the momentum practically throw me into him as I pressed my lips against his. I ran my fingers through his hair and wrapped my mouth around his soft, warm lips. Slowly, he started to kiss me back.

* * *

Whew! Almost there! Zoey and (oh please!) some kind of lemon up next.

Thank you everyone for adding me to your story alerts and favorite stories, and especially for the reviews!!! Every time I get a notice in my email I squeal just like Damian's boyfriend Jack ;-D.


	11. Erik and Zoey

_Okay, gotta start with a rambling Author's Note:_

_First and most important - Thank you all soooo much for the favorite adds, the encouraging PMs, and especially the reviews while I battled writer's block and RL these past months. You have all kept me going, especially on the days… weeks… that I couldn't get a single word written that seemed to fit. I hope this was worth the wait. I'll be waiting on pins and needles to read your reviews and PMs!!!_

_So…_

_Okay, still pretty thin on the plot – there are a few things slipped in there that are important for later, but even I admit the plot isn't the important thing here._

_Even without this "plot" thing, though, this chapter still got… epic._

_I tried to break it up into a couple chapters but I couldn't find where to split it, so… pace yourself ;-D._

_Oh – there may – just possibly – be lemons ahead…_

_And finally…_

_Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts, I'm just playing with the stuff in their castle._

* * *

And…he wasn't kissing me back.

My heart fell – it absolutely felt like a weight had dropped inside my chest, like my heart suddenly weighed ten pounds. It took all my energy to hold myself up, to not collapse into him, to not sob into his chest like a baby. He wanted me, right? He was mad because he wanted me to want him? And I _did_ want him – fine, I'll admit it – no matter how much of a ho that made me. So the solution was easy, right? He didn't believe me when I said I couldn't let him go, so I had to show him.

Easy.

And he wasn't kissing me back. Way to crush a girl's self-esteem. Way to throw another emotional curveball into a situation that was already way too convoluted. I loved Stark, I grew up loving Heath, and I'd thought I was falling in love with Erik – until he got all possessive and jerk-ish and pushy and mean.

But I wanted him. And just maybe, proving that to him would bring back the sweet guy I was falling for in the first place. And even if it didn't, I had to try.

And he wasn't kissing me back.

He kissed me at first, I swear he did. I swear I felt his soft lips start to wrap around mine. He'd shouted at me, challenged me to prove that I cared, and when I tackled him, he kissed me back. I think. I swear.

Tears burned in my eyes. I kept them closed, hiding my tears from him, and hiding from everything else in the room.

I let myself be a total wimp and let my vision stay black instead of looking to see the expression on his face, or the hardness I was afraid I'd see in his clear blue eyes. I let myself see nothing instead of letting myself linger on the way his black, vintage Star Wars t-shirt lay against his body, or the way his jeans hung almost artfully on his hips. I let myself embrace the darkness behind my eyelids instead of looking at the rumpled blue comforter and white sheets under my knees. I let myself hide in darkness as thick as the night rather than see again how bare the room was, to avoid being reminded of just how little I knew this boy / guy / man / vamp, even though I was doing everything I could to prove what I felt for him.

Okay, I guess that stuff all leaked in a little, even in the darkness behind my eyelids, kind of like light under a door.

I could imagine his stony expression, his angry, hard blue eyes shadowed by the insanely hot zorro-like vamp mask across his forehead. My libido could definitely picture his body, as well as the bed we were sharing. And even as I wrapped my mouth around his again, I knew his Spartan room was telling me something. His room was so bare of anything even remotely personal, and I had no idea what should be filling the space. Evidence that even though I wanted him, I really didn't know Erik very well at all.

But I just couldn't let myself think about that right now. He was angry and hurting, and that was my fault. I'd finally figured out that I couldn't walk away from him – why else would I be making out with him at every opportunity, even while I was falling for Stark and renewing my Imprint with Heath? So if I couldn't walk away, I had to stop jerking him around. I had to prove to him how much I cared, and for our relationship, it seemed like the only way to do that was to really… _be _with him.

Now, if I could just get him to kiss me back, maybe we could try.

I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the feeling of his mouth under mine, the curve of his lips, and the heat of his breath. And his lips still didn't move.

_Crap crap crap_.

And I kept trying anyway. At this point, what else was I going to do?

I left one hand at the base of his neck, running my fingers through his thick, soft hair (and my mind wandered for a second to complain that it was totally not fair that a _guy_ had hair that soft!) – and brought my other hand around and pressed it gently against his cheek. I tilted my head a little more and opened my mouth, letting my tongue brush along his lips, trying to kiss him deeper, trying to get him to respond. His mouth was slightly open, but unmoving, and even though my spine tingled as his hot breath filled my mouth, his body was like a statue. But he didn't push me away.

_Please, please, please kiss me back. _

"I do want you," I whispered against his lips, willing him to hear how much I meant it, wishing for any way to convince him that what he was angry about was wrong. "I do care. This is just you and me. Please kiss me." His hands went to my hipbones and squeezed tightly, and he turned his head away.

My eyes burned hotter and I could feel my face flush. I couldn't think of anything else to do, but I was obviously screwing up. I just didn't know what to do to make it right!

He'd moved his mouth away from mine, so instead I trailed wet, increasingly desperate kisses along his cheek and jawline, trying to calm my shaking breath, trying to blink back my tears, trying instead to focus on simply enjoying the scratchy, manly texture of his cheek and jaw. His hot breath in my ear was loud and rasping, and his hands were painfully tight on my hips.

Then I reached his lips again and his mouth closed around mine, just barely, just for a second. _Oh, please. _ His mouth was still soft and warm and wet.

My tears cleared a little and my body relaxed into the harsh grip of his hands. Sharp pains radiated around my hips as his fingers dug into skin and muscle, and I didn't care. _He kissed me back. _Just a little, but he did. I hadn't completely lost him. But where did I go from here?

I did the only thing I could: I continued my totally awkward, very possibly failing attempt at seducing him.

I tried to lean into him, to encourage his tiny response to my kiss, but I was already leaning forward on my knees and almost falling into him. Throwing myself at him had _seemed_ like the right move, but now it left me awkwardly posed and very unbalanced. I needed to get closer, but if I leaned any more I'd be falling – and sadly, I just couldn't be sure that Erik would catch me.

From a practical and logistical standpoint, I just needed to sit back and straighten up for a minute to get my balance back. But I was afraid to pull away, afraid to break whatever small connection I'd managed to make with him. My other option was totally ungraceful, but it worked: I kept my left hand entwined in his hair, my right hand cradling his cheek, and kept kissing him carefully – his jaw, his chin, his lips… and then _knee-walked_ the short distance between our bodies in a totally awkward and completely un-sexy way.

I ended up with my knees next to Erik's hips, my lips gently caressing his unmoving mouth. It was still like kissing a statue, but at least he wasn't turning away again… His hands stayed bruise-tight on my hips. I'd successfully gotten my balance back at least, so I leaned into him, trying to press my body against his. Because of my position I was leaning kind of sideways, though, and I was suddenly hit with an image of how we must look – essentially, we were posed like we could start a tango or something in _Dancing with the Stars_.

That's when I got the giggles. Wasn't Stevie Rae always saying that reality TV could solve everything? Jeesh, I was being so silly trying to _sleep_ with Erik, when all we really needed to do was _dance._

And Erik groaned in my mouth and finally kissed me, _hard_.

My giggles caught in my throat as my back hit the mattress with a soft thud. Erik's full weight was on top of me, pressing me into the bed, and his tongue pushed past my lips, deep into my mouth. It took me precious seconds to really register what was happening, then I nearly gasped in relief. His mouth on mine got even more insistent, and I met his intensity, fisting both hands in his hair and pushing my tongue against his.

He kept his painful grip on my hips, so tight that I just _knew_ I was going to have bruises. I didn't care. I was glad for every touch. I drank in the feel of each long finger, the heel of his hand, the curve of his thumb, and the grip of his palm.

His mouth stayed locked and moving with mine. I kept kissing him desperately, deeply, pressing and twisting and stroking my tongue against his. His breath was shallow and fast and so hot it made my head spin.

It was almost hard to believe that he was finally responding, finally – maybe - letting this happen between us. Jeesh – that _I _was letting this happen between us. So much for my main problem with him: that he'd gotten pushy about sex. I must really be turning into a skanky ho, because – Goddess help me – I was pretty much the pushy one right now. I absolutely wanted him, no hesitation, no pulling away. I wanted to wrap myself around him and take him inside me. Forget Stark, forget Heath: I wanted _him._

But even though he was kissing me like _he_ wanted to crawl inside _me_, his hands weren't moving. I was sure he'd stop in a second if he realized he was hurting me, but there was no way I was going to say anything – it was the only way he was willingly touching me. He'd kissed me back, if I could just get him to move his hands… I didn't want to push him to do something he didn't want to do, but from the way he was kissing me I was pretty sure now that the _wanting_ wasn't the problem. (An annoying voice in the back of my head wanted to know what _was_ he such a mess about then, but at this point I _completely_ ignored it.)

I shifted under his body, trying to loosen his grip just a little. I could feel just about every muscle in his chest and abs against my own chest and stomach, and my thigh brushed against his hardness, bulging against the denim of his jeans. His body was warm and heavy and pressed down on me like a heavy blanket. My skin practically burned where he was crushed against me.

All I wanted was to get closer to him.

I slid my hands down his back, and when I got to his waist I slipped them up and under his t-shirt. His skin was smooth over ripples of muscle – he was seriously ripped after years of stage combat training and Dragon's fencing classes. The feel of him, his bare skin under my hands, pulled on something inside me. A low sound escaped my throat, and Erik's mouth froze on mine.

Then he groaned again and his mouth attacked again and his hands were rough and forceful and grabbing and stroking me everywhere.

My skin practically sparked where he touched me, my whole body humming like I'd touched a live wire. I ran my hands up over his shoulderblades and down again to his waist, plunging under the waistband of his jeans, drinking in the feel of him – the smoothness of his skin over the ripples and contours of muscle. My own touch was less than gentle, too, and my hands explored but pulled him tighter, trying to erase any distance between our bodies. I arched my back – I couldn't help it – and the line of his body pressed tighter and molded over mine.

Our bodies were pressed together at every possible point, our arms wrapped around each other; touching, groping, skin hot, breath ragged, mouths clashing together, slick and wet. I could still feel every ripple of muscle, and especially feel the very obvious hardness of him.

I pushed my hands between our tightly-pressed stomachs, reaching under his shirt to run my palms along the ridges of his washboard abs. I slid my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, firmly running my fingers down and tracing the strong "V" of his hips. My fingertips brushed against…him… and I plunged my hands lower, filling my hands with the length and thickness of him. I wrapped one knee around his hip and pulled him closer. His hands went under my boxers and stroked between my legs, and instead of being surprised to feel his fingers caressing me there, I felt electrified. Erik's mouth was so rough and urgent on mine, and I kissed him back with as much passion as I could.

We were moving way too fast, from zero to sixy – or really, from zero to something like mach five – and I couldn't bring myself to care. We were just a few pieces of inconveniently placed clothing away from the inevitable conclusion of our colliding bodies.

I tugged at the buttons of his jeans. I finally had to use both hands, but I got them undone. I pushed at the waistband a little, and he lifted his hips. His tongue still filled my mouth. I used my feet to push his jeans over his butt, down his legs…

And then he wrenched his mouth away from mine and pushed himself away.

"Fuck, Z," he gasped out, still pulling away from me. I scrambled backward in the other direction, trying awkwardly to sit up. My back hit the headboard fairly quickly and I was smashed up against the wood, breathing hard.

And he was across the room, fist and forehead against the wall, his other hand hitching his jeans back up over his boxers.

"Fuck," he swore again. He hit the wall with his fist and I flinched. He paused, and I could hear and see his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. Then he spun around and slammed the wall again as he whirled to face me. In just a few long strides he was standing beside the bed, towering over me, glaring down.

_What_ _happened_? I felt awful, like I'd been on some kind of spinning carnival ride that had come to a jarring stop; like I'd been spit out, dizzy and stumbling, on the other side.

His face was a blur of flesh and Mark in the dim light, but his eyes were like bright blue flames. It took a second for me to focus, to see his expression. My heart dropped when I really saw him: his face was all twisted and angry and agonized. It was worse than I thought. He looked like he did when he caught me with Loren. I never wanted him to look at me like that again – I never wanted _anyone_ to look at me like that again. And I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I'd done.

"What the fuck is going on, Z.?" He demanded. "Why are you so _fucking_ willing to sleep with me?"

I cringed, but I could see how hurt he was. I was doing this all wrong again! "I told you," I stammered, "I _do_ want you."

"So you _want_ me to fuck you?" he retorted, his voice snide and mocking and livid.

_No. NO! He was NOT doing this to me again!_

My gut twisted, my mouth tasted sour, and I clenched my jaw. I had to swallow hard so it didn't feel so much like I was choking. My eyes burned but I squeezed them shut, hard and tight and fast. There was no way I was going to cry this time. I didn't deserve it last night and I didn't deserve it now.

"You weren't exactly fighting me off," I shot back.

I tried to stand up to face him but ended up stumbling over my own knees on the bed and backing away from him. He leaned over me, and I'm sure with his drama-training he was very aware that he was using his height and his anger to intimidate me. And I wasn't going to let him this time. I stood up on my knees – okay, _not_ intimidating, but it gave me a place to start – and leaned forward, refusing to let him make me back down. "You weren't fighting me off," I repeated.

"I had to see how far you'd go!" he shouted. "You've barely let me _touch_ you for over a month! What the _fuck_ is going on?!"

_Dammit._ He wasn't wrong. I refused to let him bully me into admitting it, though. If we were going to have any kind of relationship, I was _not_ going to beg and grovel and cry when he was mad at me – not again. Yes, in this case he had a right to be confused and probably a little angry, but that didn't mean he could rip me apart.

I set my jaw and held my head up, doing my best to keep my gaze firm but somewhat calm as I locked eyes with his, still-furious glare. I knee-walked forward – sadly, looking horribly awkward doing it, I'm sure – and got my feet on the floor as fast as I could. He was directly in front of me, and my choice of where I got off the bed actually made him take a small step backward, otherwise I would have run into him. As it was, we ended up barely inches apart, me having to glare _up_ at him now that my feet were firmly on the ground. I could have chosen a different spot to get off the bed, but he was in my way and I wasn't going to help him out at all at this point.

I wanted him, but not like this. This needed to get fixed _now. _Sweet, helpful, smart, considerate, talented, insecure Erik I wanted so much it hurt. Possessive, pushy Erik I was even getting willing to negotiate on. Mean, spiteful, hateful, angry, _brutal_ Erik I wanted no part of.

I continued glaring up at him, and he glared back. It took me a minute to pull myself back to the actual words he had said. Yes, I had been pulling away before when he'd gotten all pushy about sex, but since last night, after the …intimacy, him holding me all night, AND all the apologizing and talking and trying we had done...

Negating all that just plain pissed me off. "I thought we were a little past that at this point," I snapped.

But he was absolutely furious and sarcastic and belligerent. "_Maybe_ I changed my mind. _Maybe_ I don't believe you. _Maybe_ I'm not okay with sloppy seconds."

_He did NOT just say that._

My face burned – I'm not sure if I was more hurt, more angry, or more humiliated. My full temper burned sudden and white-hot like an emergency road flare. "You do _not_ get to talk to me like that. You will not speak to _anyone_ like that. I will be your high priestess and no matter what happens between us, you will _remember that."_

"Well it's hard to _remember_ that you're a high priestess when –"

"STOP!"

I slammed both my hands against his chest and my own cry echoed in my ears. My hands practically reverberated against his body as I felt the power of my elements be pulled to me, like one giant, heaving breath. I'd called them to me in an instant, without thinking. I was ready to blast him across the room, like the gang-banger wanna-be's I'd blasted into traffic.

The words he _didn't_ say echoed in my head. _It's hard to remember that you're a high priestess when you're the one down on your knees. _

I swear I heard the words before he said them – maybe I read them in his eyes and in the mocking look on his face. Hopefully I was wrong. Hopefully he had something else in mind – maybe even something less cruel. But I just couldn't take the chance on letting him say anything out loud. I didn't think my heart could take it.

My hands vibrated with the power of the elements, and I shoved my palms against his chest so hard he actually took a step backward. I could have easily blasted him away from me - I won't lie and say I wasn't tempted. But I was going to be a high priestess – if I survived the Change _and_ Kalona – and I couldn't let my temper control me. Besides, I was a little ashamed of myself for even shoving him with my hands. I think it's a lame and wrong double-standard in romance novels and TV shows that the girl can get mad and push and hit and shove the guy and it's somehow understandable and romantic, while if the guy lays a hand on the girl it's abuse.

But I still _wanted_ to push him, to force him to get away from me. I got a grip on my temper just in time. I didn't push him again, and - so I wouldn't use them, either - I snapped my elements back to me like a rubber band. It didn't sting like a rubber band, though. Instead, I felt my elements swirl around me: comforting me, strengthening me, and helping me be brave enough finish what I started.

So – as I let go of the anger and let the strength of the elements fill me, I felt braver and more able to keep trying and not at all like I was going to cry. But as I let go of the anger, some - okay, a lot - of the pain seeped back in. He couldn't be doing this, not again, not after we'd both apologized, not after he'd held me all night, not after he'd shown me again what a decent guy he _could_ be.

"Stop." I said it quieter this time, and held his eyes. Fury and hurt and sadness rolled over his blue irises like storm clouds. I slowly lowered my hands like they were loaded weapons – which, in this case they really were. I tried to keep my voice from shaking and I succeeded – mostly. I couldn't keep it from sounding like I was weak and pleading, though. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you?" he retorted. The bitterness in his voice was painful.

Even though he got mad when I said it, I had to say it again. I looked into his eyes and said it as honestly and clearly as I could. "Because I do want you. I do care. I'm not thinking about anyone else. I want _you_."

For a moment his eyes met mine steadily and it looked like he might actually believe me – like he actually _wanted_ to believe me. Then the moment was gone. His features twisted back into the angry, agonized scowl I both hated and simultaneously broke my heart.

"That's _bullshit." _He hissed, and his hard blue eyes stared down at me. But this time, when I refused to look away, I saw pain flicker across his features as he tried to hold on to his anger.

I searched his eyes, trying to find some way in, for some way to make him believe me. "It's true," I whispered. My own feelings were painfully raw. He was distressingly good at finding the exact thing to say to hurt me the most. I wanted to yell and scream and hurt him back. I wanted to hold up my elements in front of me like a shield.

But instead, I left myself undefended and opened my heart. "If I didn't care, you wouldn't be able to hurt me this much."

And he broke the eye contact and looked away, but not before I saw something that I swear looked like guilt.

In the hurt silence between us, I felt the gentle support of my goddess. Her very real presence triggered something, something important. It took a second for me to rearrange my brain to figure out what it was.

I'd actually forgotten that I'd had other reasons for coming here last night.

Nyx.

The pain faded a little as I contemplated the drama of throwing _more_ issues into the fray. Ah, crap. Now how the hell was I going to tell Erik about Nyx's plan? _Why_ would I tell him?? I'd said I would explain Stark's acceptance of the whole disturbing, disgusting situation, but I'd somehow hoped to keep Nyx out of it. But I felt the rock-solid certainty that Nyx wanted Erik to know.

"Erik." I started again. My voice was stronger, and when I looked up at him again he actually didn't look quite so angry. I took a deep breath. 'I don't know what else to say so you'll believe me. I'm sorry about Stark, and Heath – hell, I'm still sorry about Loren – but my feelings for them don't change how I feel about you. I told you, I don't want to let you go." My voice dropped as I got ready to say the rest – it might be what Nyx wanted, but it wasn't going to be pretty. "And Nyx doesn't want me to, either."

I braced myself for the next explosion from Erik. I didn't spell it out, but I knew he'd get what I meant. I waited. I could already guess some of the things he might say. _Nyx's whore_, maybe? It wasn't hard to imagine; he was just saying the things I was most afraid to hear. I waited, ready to take it, take whatever he said and not let it hurt. Maybe if we could get past his knee-jerk (heavy on the "jerk") temper, there would be something on the other side that we could actually deal with.

He didn't explode. He didn't even look surprised. He also didn't sound happy. "I know," he answered.

Of all the things he could have said, I really didn't expect him to say that. Then I realized I was an idiot. Again. If Stark got a revelation from Nyx, maybe Erik did, too.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"I _know_, all right?! I know you're only willing to sleep with me because Nyx wants you to. I've just been waiting for you to admit it!

_If that's what he'd be thinking the whole time…_

Ah, hell. Okay, that didn't excuse him being a complete jerk and the utterly cruel things he'd said, but it did explain a little. And okay, I admit it was a little disturbing how willing I was to forget and / or forgive Erik's cruel words. I was either being (possibly too much) very sympathetic, or (possibly more disturbing) getting used to his outbursts. But my own (very probably unhealthy) reasons for continuing to try to make things work between us… apparently fit nicely with Nyx's plan.

But continuing any of this, for any of those reasons, meant that I had to make Erik understand.

I touched his arm and looked up into his eyes. "That's not the only reason."

"Yeah," he answered, sounding tired. "You can't let me go. That's bullshit, okay? I've told you I love you way too many times, and you stopped saying it back a while ago. You barely even let me touch you. I can't believe I'm so pathetic that I keep coming back for more, anyway."

_Crap._ How _could_ I fix this? I'd pretty much figured out that I really wanted to be with him, and that my feelings for him – even though I couldn't _name_ said feelings – didn't make me love Stark any less or change anything about my Imprint with Heath. I'd even pretty much stopped feeling like a ho. Heck, it practically felt _normal_ to me that I could want all three guys and not feel the need to choose.

Yeah, I'd definitely need therapy when this blew up in my face…

But until then…

I reached up and brushed the backs of my fingers against his cheek. He closed his eyes. I stepped closer. Our bodies were just inches apart again, and I felt an undeniable magnetic pull – like every electron on my skin was oriented straight for him. The attraction practically shimmered in the air between us. I stood on my tip-toes, and gently pulled his face down to kiss him.

It only took a second and he was kissing me back, and faster than that the kiss turned rough, desperate, needy. I molded myself against his lean, muscled body, my back arching backward, his body curving over me. His hands roamed roughly all over me – over and under the t-shirt, his bare skin against mine starting a slow burn. He grabbed my butt with both hands and pulled me to him, pressing us together even tighter, making me arch backward even more. With a slower, more deliberate, firm touch his hands moved under the t-shirt, up the bare skin of my back, then slid forward and back down the sides of my body, brushing over my bare breasts. The kiss got deeper, less frantic, and his hands stopped at my hips.

His grip was tight but not harsh this time and I relaxed even more into his kiss, into the warm pressure of his body against mine. His hands wrapped around me and I could feel his palms against my hipbones, and his fingers along the sides of my butt.

Then his grip changed and he was pushing me away, firmly but gently, breaking the connection between our bodies. He kept kissing me for a moment longer, then deliberately and distinctly disentangled his mouth from mine.

He was breathing deep and slow as I raised my face to look at him, our faces still just inches apart. His palms were still pressed loosely against my hips – _my_ hands hung uselessly at my sides. His blue eyes met mine. "Please don't do that," he said.

What else could I do?

He looked frustrated and conflicted and hurt, but not angry, and I reached my hand up to touch him anyway. He closed his eyes again, and I gently traced the filled-in sapphire crescent in the middle of his forehead. Then I brushed my fingers over the Mark that spanned from temple to temple.

I tried to explain in a different way.

"This," I said quietly, "means you belong to Nyx."

I touched just the filled-in crescent in the middle of my own forehead. "This means _I_ belong to Nyx." I shrugged and made a vague gesture toward my back and shoulders. "Actually, if you touch just about any part of my body you'll see just how much I belong to Nyx."

Erik's jaw tightened, but I didn't stop.

"_We_ belong to Nyx. But one of her greatest gifts to us is free will. If you really don't want me, I'll stop. I'll leave. I'll walk out that door and I won't ever bother you again. But I need you to understand. No matter how much I belong to her, I wouldn't be obedient to her on this if I didn't want you."

I hoped that made sense. I hoped that would help. But Erik turned away, and I let him.

It was breaking my heart, but I said it, and I meant it. Nothing I was doing was making this any better. _Showing_ him – physically – was helping for just _slightly_ longer than it took to separate our bodies – if it helped at all. _Talking _was barely helping at all – he just didn't believe me. And if I _kept _trying, I was afraid he'd just get more and more angry, and finally say something that would scar my heart forever. Better to stop now. I would find another way to accomplish whatever Nyx thought being with Erik would accomplish.

I turned to leave. Well, find my clothes first, then leave.

Erik's voice stopped me. "I'm sorry, Z.," he said. He didn't turn around. His shoulders were hunched and his voice was tight. "I just can't. I thought I could deal with Stark, and Heath, and… and you only being with me because of Nyx. I've tried and tried since you came over last night but I just can't."

Did that explain everything? His nasty temper, the things that he said? How he held me – so carefully and gently - all night and agonized that he might have really hurt me (not just hurt my feelings)? Why, even though he ended up pushing me away, the way he _was _kissing me and touching me made me feel as wanted as…as I felt when I was with Stark.

"So…does that mean you still… love me?" I whispered.

My heart twisted painfully.

I don't know what made me say it. It wasn't Nyx – I felt her presence, but not her influence. I guess I just had to know. I had to know that his cruelty was a reaction to pain, not how he really felt about me. I had to know that, even though I was giving up, that there was something _to_ give up; that even though _he_ was saying no, that it wasn't because his feelings for me had changed.

I don't know why I needed him to love me. Stark loved me; heart, body, and soul, and he was everything to me. Heath loved me – even though I wasn't sure that I wanted him to now that so many things had changed between us (number one being that he was still human and I could only hope to survive the Change and become a full-fledged Vampyre – and interspecies romance just seemed waaay too science-fiction and complicated). But I was slowly realizing that if Erik didn't love me any more, there would be an empty space in my heart where _we_ used to be.

Jeesh, how greedy and selfish and, well, kind of gross could I be? I was lucky enough that Stark loved me – my near perfect lover / warrior / soulmate / friend. I was even lucky that Heath loved me – if nothing else, he was my first love and he had taught me a lot about sharing my heart. But…

"I'm only asking because…" I stammered, and like last night when I first came into his apartment, my words tripped out of my mouth faster than I could stop them, faster than I could think, faster than I could edit, almost faster than I could breathe. "It's just that I love Stark, heart and soul. And I grew up loving Heath, and it almost killed him the first time I broke our Imprint, and I won't hurt him like that again. So I don't understand why I can't let you go. If I love them, why does it hurt so much to know that when I walk out of this room that it's over between us? I said I'll stop, and I mean it, but why has it taken us so long to even get to this point, why weren't we over months ago? And you can be so sweet, but you're awful to me – every time I screw up, every time you're angry, you're yelling at me and saying anything that will hurt me the most. Why am I still here even when you hurt me?" and my brain finally paused enough to finally give me the analogy that seemed to explain my feelings. "It's almost like _I_ Imprinted on _you_ – from the first time you rescued me after the Dark Daughters, after the first time we kissed, after you protected Heath just because it was the right thing to do, after you took the part of my consort in the ritual, after you followed me rather than following Kalona. I said I'd stop and I will, but I just have to know – when I walk out that door, is it because you hate me? Or – even after everything – could you possibly still…love me?"

I was finally able to stop, to breathe, but now I was terrified and shaking like the temperature had dropped by about fifty degrees.

He didn't answer, he didn't turn. I stared at his back. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath. I was dying to escape, to leave, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

I don't know how long we stood there. I know it was long enough for me to stop shaking. It was long enough that I had nearly memorized the placement of every wavy hair on the back of his head. But after some interminable amount of time, he turned around and gathered my face in his hands. His brilliant blue eyes stared at me so hard it hurt, but his grip on my face was surprisingly gentle. "Fuck, Z.," he ground out finally, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I mean it. I'm sorry. This is killing me but this isn't going to work. Just - don't ever think that I don't love you." And then his mouth was on mine, crushing my lips, invading my mouth.

_He still loved me._

My heart did a hopeful little ballet leap, and I threw my arms around him and kissed him back with everything I had.

His arms moved to my waist and scooped me up, lifting me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around him and his hands moved to my butt, caressing me through the thin fabric of the boxers, holding most of my weight. Our breathing was loud and fast, and the sound of our mouths moving together filled the small room.

Erik pulled his mouth away from mine, only to continue his erotic assault down my neck, sucking and skimming the flat part of his teeth against my skin. I wanted to ask him to bite me, to taste me like Loren did, but I managed to hold onto one conscious, cautious thought about Heath and decided to ask Erik later if that was possible for us. In the meantime, I wove my fingers into Erik's hair, pulling him closer as he pushed the neck of the t-shirt aside with his chin and his mouth moved along my collarbone.

The way I was wrapped around him meant that his hardness was pressed between my legs, and my insides absolutely ached to feel more of him. I pulled myself tighter against him, grinding myself against him shamelessly. Erik's hands pulled me closer and his hips moved in response. His mouth paused, and he looked up at me. "Bed? Or wall?" He rasped.

"Bed," my voice was unsteady as I panted, "for now."

He groaned, took a few more steps with me wrapped around him, and pushed me back on the bed. He paused to pull his jeans off – leaving his boxers on – then crawled on top of me, blanketing my body with his. His mouth returned to mine. I could feel his heart beating, our bodies were so close, and I'm sure he could feel mine. _He loved me._ Never mind just how _wrong_ it was – "this isn't going to work" wasn't exactly "we'll figure something out". But I was finally understanding just how much I needed him, how much I was willing to fight for _us_.

I explored his back with my hands again, stroking and caressing every inch. I reached down, slipped my hands under the hem of his t-shirt, and instead of sliding my hands back up under the fabric, I got bold and pulled it all the way up and over his head.

Shirtless, Erik raised himself up, hovering over me, and my eyes traveled down his body. My breath caught in my throat. He was…beautiful. Not that I expected anything else, but… he had a six-pack that rivaled Brad Pitt's in that old _Thelma and Louise_ movie. The perfect V of his hips disappeared under the waistband of his boxers, and my fingers itched to follow the lines of those Abercrombie-worthy muscles. The rest of him – pecs, biceps, forearms - was perfectly muscled and sculpted as well. I reached up and ran my fingers lightly across his abs, and his breathing hitched.

My eyes flew back to his face, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to refocus. His face was in shadow, just inches from mine, backlit by the soft yellow glow of his bedroom light. His blue eyes, looking down at me from under his exotic, Zorro-like Mark, were shadowed and intense.

Our eyes locked, our breathing got more ragged, and his hardness pressed into me again as he shifted his weight, freeing one hand to roam over my body. He pulled my shirt over my head with a minimum of awkwardness. In the small struggle to take it off, though, I forgot that I would have preferred to leave it on.

The atmosphere between us changed abruptly, like listening to an ipod on shuffle where, after a good long streak of alternative rock and dance mixes, it suddenly switches to acoustic guitar.

I felt sick. I was sure he was going to tell me to go after all.

Erik was staring down at me with pain and anger and disgust etched onto his face, and there was nowhere for me to go. I tried to roll away from him, tried to grab at the discarded t-shirt, tried to pull up the rumpled sheets to cover myself, but Erik's body held me in place. His free hand pressed my shoulder back against the bed so I lay flat beneath him. He stared down at my body and his jaw clenched.

My scar.

My throat felt really thick and my eyes burned a little. I looked up at the softly lit yellowish ceiling and blinked fast, trying to keep the tears from falling. I lifted my hands to his chest and tried to push him away, but he didn't move. I turned my head – I couldn't bear to see the look on his face. "It's okay, I know it's ugly," I said.

I twisted a little in his grip, trying to sit up, trying to get away – I don't know where, just away – but he held me down. I looked back up at him and saw him shake his head – not shaking it at me, but like he was trying to clear a thought. He let go of my shoulder and laid his free hand flat against the scar – his fingertips feather-light against the spot on my shoulder where the Raven-mocker's claw first split my flesh, the heel of his hand pressing deeply into the thick, raised tissue. He ran his thumb along the jagged line of flesh in between.

I kept trying to squirm away – I couldn't help it, I just didn't want him touching me there, not when he was obviously so totally disgusted by it. The weight of his body on me and the press of his hand made it impossible for me to pull away without really fighting him, though, and I was just too embarrassed to fight really hard. Finally, he said - really, really quietly - "I'm so sorry, Z."

Then I remembered that he'd blamed himself for me getting attacked.

"Yeah." I couldn't get my voice above a whisper.

"You're still beautiful, Z," he said. Tears blurred my vision. I stopped struggling completely – it wasn't helping, anyway.

Erik moved his hand from my scar to my cheek, grabbing my face and forcing me to meet his eyes. "I mean it, Z," he said. I cringed and he let go of my face, and he moved his hand back to stroke my scar. His touch was gentle as he traced the ragged rope of tissue with the tips of his fingers from shoulder to shoulder. He pulled away a little, seemed to hesitate, then leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "It's smooth," he murmured.

My stomach fluttered confusingly. He continued stroking the scar. He dipped his head down and smoothed his lips along it – not in the agonized, worshipful way Stark had, but in a way that was almost…erotic. "It's part of you," he murmured. "_You_ are beautiful. And this –" he placed one warm, wet kiss on the scar, "-is part of you, so this –" and he kissed it again, "-is beautiful."

My emotions see-sawed all over the place. Erik was horrified at my scar at first – not that I expected anything else – but now he was touching it like it was a beautiful part of me. And my body was reacting like he was caressing other, more intimate parts of me. On one side, my self-centered worries melted away, and I ached to continue where we'd left off. On the other side, my vanity was in full swing and I ached to tear myself away from his hands and lips and crawl in a hole.

I couldn't decide if I was turned on or nauseas.

But as I tried to get past my self-centered, self-conscious embarrassment about my scar, I also tried, one more time – a little late in the game, I'll admit – to decide if continuing this was a good idea at all.

I was very aware that Erik hadn't exactly _accepted_ being with me while I still loved two other guys; he'd just stopped fighting whatever it was that was happening between us. And if he wasn't sure – about _everything_ between us - this couldn't end well.

But Erik said he still loved me. He loved me so much he was willing to see my scar as part of me and still call me beautiful. And he'd shown me that he loved me in so many other ways: he'd been there for me over and over again, helped me over and over again, given me more chances over and over again.

Yes, he hurt me – a lot. And the next time he got angry he'd probably say something horrible to hurt me again. But I was hurting him, too, by not being able to be exclusive with him, and that wasn't going to change, either.

So… it basically came down to what I could live with. And I couldn't picture my life without him in it.

My hands were balled up at my sides, grasping handfuls of Erik's plain white sheets. He continued tracing the thick, jagged tissue of my scar with feather-light touches from his fingertips and his lips. I was still pulling away from him the littlest bit, the top half of my body pressing harder into the mattress underneath me like I could sink in and disappear. Fortunately or unfortunately, my lower half was pressing upward into _him_, and – goddess help me – I wanted more.

And since there was no reason to stop – well, no reason I was listening to, anyway – at this point, the only thing stopping us was…me.

So I let go. I let go of the fistfuls of sheets clenched in my hands, and I let go of the last of my hesitations and worries – no matter how rational and sense-making. I let go of my self-centered, self-conscious disgust at my disfiguring scar. I let go of Stark, and Heath – just for this moment – and even let go of the confusion and danger of Kalona. I let go of everything else, and I held onto Erik.

His mouth wrapped around mine, warm and wet and soft. He traced the line of my scar one more time, from shoulder to shoulder. He shifted his body just a little, so his body completely covered mine.

I kissed him back like I was diving into a deep pool - and I didn't care if I ever got back out of the water.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, so his hardness was pressed against the most intimate part of me. I could feel where he curved slightly against me, through the fabric of the boxers that we were both (surprisingly) still wearing. We were kissing deep and long and slow – not the frantic, rough tongue-battle we were having before – and I dove deeper and deeper into his mouth.

He ran his hands along my legs, pretty much reaching behind him to start where my ankles were crossed behind his back, to continue along my calves and thighs and underneath both our bodies. His long fingers continued up and over the curve of my butt. His skin was warm against my skin, under the thin cotton of the boxers. His touch sent waves of warmth and tingling spreading out along my body, and I shivered.

Somehow, I coordinated my hands and feet and pushed his boxers down his legs without getting too tangled up. As soon as he'd helped take them off the rest of the way his hands were back under _my_ boxers, caressing my bare skin, and I was only slightly embarrassed at the way his touch had me writhing beneath him.

He explored my mouth with his tongue, and his fingers wrapped around the waistband of my boxers. It was a little awkward because his hands were still against my skin, underneath the fabric, but he found a way to gently tug them down. I had to disentangle my legs from around his body to help him get the boxers off the rest of the way, and once they were gone and Erik's body was resting between my legs, I realized we were both finally completely naked.

Erik must have realized it, too, because he stopped kissing me and raised his body up a little so we were eye to eye.

"Z," he whispered, "are you sure you want to do this?"

I looked up into the blue of his eyes, and had a schmaltzy romantic thought – that if I could look into Erik's eyes every day, there was no way I'd ever miss seeing the daytime sky when (or sadly, _if_) I Changed into a full vamp. "Yes," I whispered back, willing him, again, to feel how truly I meant it.

He blew out a rough, hot, frustrated-sounding breath. "Fuck," he murmured. It almost sounded like a prayer. He closed his eyes for a second. "Are you sure?" he asked again. His words and his tone warred with each other. He was asking permission, but it sounded like he was begging me to change my mind. His voice was husky as he finished. "Because I don't want to stop."

I waited until he opened his eyes to tell him, as sincerely as I could, "I'm not asking you to." And I wrapped my fingers around his hand and guided him down my body to rest on top of my breast. His hand moved almost automatically, brushing his thumb across the tip.

My insides, specifically the part of me that Erik's hardness was so close to, responded with a sweet, exquisite ache.

I held his eyes and shifted just a little, parting my legs to bring him closer in just the right place. With no more hesitation from either of us, after the massive drama that we'd worked through (or at least were choosing to not deal with any more right now) the next step was exceedingly simple. His hardness pressed into me and he pushed himself inside. For a long moment, everything I felt was blotted out by the sensation; every bit of my being was aware of his body entering mine. Every nerve ending registered the pressure and thickness of him, and that sweet ache intensified and got deeper. He filled me slowly, just a little at a time, until we were fully joined, fully together.

He paused then, and looked back down into my eyes. My breath caught in my throat. It was the most raw, honest, bare, transparent gaze I'd ever seen. He looked lost, conflicted, and at the same time, totally devoted to what he was looking at.

Me.

I saw a lot more in his eyes as I looked deeper, searching for something I didn't know I'd lost, or didn't know I wanted to find. I saw how flawed he was, and I saw his strength. I saw secrets, pain, anger, horror… and love.

My body responded to what I saw in his eyes – to what I saw in _him. _It was a physical response, but not only physical. It was like a wave swelled up inside me and rushed out, engulfing both of us.

There was only one word for what I was feeling.

All the times I told him I just couldn't let him go? All the times I told myself I couldn't name my feelings? All the times I told myself I didn't love him?

Well, the lady doth protest too much, apparently.

I loved him.

I felt like laughing. I felt like screaming. I felt like crying. I was an _IDIOT_. Of _course_ I loved him.

I don't know if he saw the change in my eyes – I hoped so. I couldn't bear to lose him before, and losing him now would destroy me.

I muffled my half-cry, half-scream - that was some awful mixture of frustration and passion - and wrapped my legs around Erik's waist, pulling him deeper and deeper inside me. My heart – kind of like the grinch – felt at least three sizes bigger, filling my chest, making me breathe deep and bringing tears to my eyes. I arched my back and threw my head back against the mattress, pressing my bare breasts against his chest and pulling his lips to my collarbone. Erik was finally beyond hesitation and attacked with a passionate savagery that would have scared me if I wasn't feeling exactly the same.

My elements swirled around us – I'd never told them to go – and with a silent thought, some combination of the five let me shove Erik over. I rolled with him and pressed him down into the mattress and followed some kind of - almost primal - impulse. I held him down and crushed my lips against his, roughly groping and rubbing and stroking every available inch of his skin. His hands were just as rough, and we kissed and touched and moved until we were slick with sweat, breathless, panting, and pressed together so tightly we were sore and bruised. We rolled and grabbed and crashed together and stroked and massaged and caressed.

We moved together, joined together, and he was so much like Stark, and so different. We joined deeply and forcefully and the bed shook and I was extremely grateful that the walls were old and thick because we were not gentle and we were not quiet.

We moved together in a heartpounding rhythm until the moment when the world stopped spinning and my entire reality came down to my body encompassing his and his body filling mine. I was frozen in that moment with him, and our connection felt intense and pure and _right_. That frozen moment passed and my climax hit me like hundreds of tiny explosive charges detonating along every inch of my body. Erik's climax followed mine and I held onto him. Together, we were shaking, quivering, and pulsing - and torn somewhere between laughter and tears.

We came down from the physical and emotional overload together, still wrapped around each another. In the afterglow, we snuggled under the rumpled sheets, damp with our sweat and twisted and wrapped around us from our… enthusiastic… coupling. My arms were around Erik and his head was heavy on my chest. Both our breathing was finally slowing.

His body was warm and solid against mine, and another wave of love spilled out of me and covered us. It felt like a fountain bubbling over, a fountain that I hadn't even let myself notice but now was standing in the center of it, letting it wash over me.

My whole body sang with the love I felt for him as I held him in my arms. But as I let tiny bits of reality in, like stars slowly peeking out of the night sky, I started to feel something other than the all-encompassing love that surrounded us.

Was loving Erik going to change anything? Or… everything?

_Ah, crap. _

* * *

_And just a short Author's note at the end..._

_I promised at least one loyal reader that Heath and Zoey's relationship would take center stage soon – they'll get their turn coming up next._

_And..._

_This chapter is dedicated to my friend Kristi, who said of Erik and Zoey, - and I think this is a direct quote – "God, just do it already!"_

_Sorry it took so long – both for me to write it, and for them to figure it out. ;-D_


	12. Outtake: Heath's POV on Z x Erik

Author's Note:

When I started this story I swore to myself that I'd do it all from Zoey's POV. I love dual POV fanfic stories, but I liked the challenge of showing everything from just Zoey. Then I was having trouble getting Heath's "voice" for my current Zoey x Heath chapters, so just as an experiment, just for me, I did a Heath POV.

I ended up working on it so much that even though it might be a little lame and mess up the flow of the story, I asked if anyone was interested in checking it out, and I got very nice encouragement in my reviews and PMs (thank you all!!!). You should be able to skip it completely and still get all the story from Zoey, but I had fun getting in Heath's head, so I hope you'll like my attempt! (Oh, I wrote it in italics so I could keep the POVs separate, and decided to keep it that way so it stands out as different if you're reading the story straight through.)

So: Heath's POV from the Z x Erik chapters – starting all the way back at chapter 6. A couple things are intentionally vague and will come up later when Heath talks with Zo...

Rough language, but not a lemon in sight. Eep.

Oh yeah: the HON universe belongs to PC and Kristen Cast!!!

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_I woke up about 6am, bawling my eyes out. Shit. It took me a minute to shake off the sleep fog and figure out it was Zo, not me, having the drama. I grabbed my phone and called her: straight to voicemail. I left a quick "Zo, you okay? and sent her a text too. Nada from Zo. I almost got up to go find her – that's what a consort is supposed to do, right? Take care of his priestess? – but Zo would be pissed I just showed up, not to mention my folks would freak. She had friends at her school to take care of her, so I just had to chill. _

_I tried to get back to sleep – I was out late with the guys last night, and I was meeting Zo tonight. If I was gonna stay up for her "day" I needed to sleep for a few more hours. I was glad I went out – it got my folks off my back some – but man, trying to live my life and Zo's was wearing me down. I've been mainlining caffeine but it wasn't helping much. I'm glad I went out, though – it was a good party. Nice and low-key. Good guys, cute girls (I kept my hands to myself, but I don't mind looking), and some Guitar Hero and Wii sports. There was a keg, but I passed and drank my Coke. If I was gonna be a high priestess's consort I had to grow up some. Puking in the bushes and driving home half trashed wasn't responsible behavior and wasn't going to win Zo points with the vamp high council. Besides, as close as my folks and school were watching me, it was better to stay sober anyhow. I needed my scholarship so I could move out next year, and getting in trouble with them – not to mention the risk of getting picked up for public intox or DUI (the cops were _everywhere_ after Brad and Chris died and I got kidnapped and rescued) could mess that up big time. Besides, my drinking got a little out of hand last fall and it was time to cool it anyway. So now I'm a model citizen – yeah, you can laugh – but Zo's worth it._

_The lump of tears in my throat eased off some, and a new feeing went straight to my cock. I put the pillow over my face. Fuck. Zo and Stark were at it again. I passed on the chance to take matters into my own hands. Beating off to your girl's sex life – when it's not with _you - _was just about a dozen different kinds of wrong, so I'll keep the blue balls, thanks. _

_After waaaay too long, that passed (thank god, goddess, who_ever_), and just as I was giving up and going to take a cold shower to ice down my aching nuts, I was doubled over, sobs choking me and tears pouring like rain. My knees were under me and my heart was breaking. Luckily I was getting better at figuring out when an emotion was Zo's and not mine, even though I was feeling it just like she was. I thought hard, concentrating like I do when I'm trying to memorize Coach's latest plays. It was harder than usual - impossible. Most times I can kind of peel myself back a little, like peeling a peel from a banana just the tiniest bit – or more like, peeling a bandaid off your arm hair. This time I couldn't find a spot to even start peeling away. The grief was tearing at my ribs like razor-sharp fingernails, and I couldn't move and could barely think. Knowing it wasn't mine and being paralyzed by it anyway finally just pissed me off. _God! Goddess!This is soo not cool! Give me a ball to catch and I'll run it a mile, hell, let some defender flatten me 10 yards from the end zone. I don't care, just holy fuck isn't there a better way to do this?

_I finally got a grip, slowly. I couldn't split Zo's feelings away, but I was able to cover them up some, like alternating ice packs and heat pads after a rough game. Enough to be able to tell that I was okay but she was a mess, and that she needed me. My insides were a mix of anger and sadness and loneliness and hope, and I was pretty sure that the only of those that was mine was the anger._

_Fucking asshole Stark. I could finally move and went back to the bed to get my phone. Still no answer. "Zo, I'm on my way." Coming to get U, I texted. Fuck it if she got mad, she needed me; I was going. _

_I threw on jeans and a BA sweatshirt and headed out. I stopped to say bye to my folks – gotta keep them happy. They were both in the kitchen drinking coffee and working on their laptops. I made up something about meeting friends and hanging out around Utica Square and mom actually handed me her credit card. "Stop at one of the stores and get something for church," she told me. "Go ahead and get lunch, too, but I want all the receipts and I'll be checking the statement." She kissed my cheek and added, "I'm glad you're hanging out with some good kids again." I kissed her back and didn't roll my eyes or anything. If I started to argue she might make me stay home – worse, she might call Pastor Miller. I didn't need any more brainwashing attempts and I wanted to get to Zo as fast as I could. But mom seemed happy enough that I was going out during the day. She bought all the propaganda that vamps couldn't be up during the day at all, so I'll bet it didn't even cross her mind that I could be going to meet a vamp – or vamp fledgling priestess - at 9am on a Saturday morning. I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her any different. _

_Dad just said, "Be back by 6 for dinner." My dad's cool, but he doesn't like vamps, either. It's weird: I never knew my folks were prejudiced until Zo got Marked._

_I tossed my good wool coat behind the passenger seat of my truck – no telling what Tulsa weather was going to do and I was tired of freezing my ass off when I didn't have it. I was feeling better after leaving the house. (I was always tense around my folks now, ever since Zo and I got back together.) Zo seemed better, too – not great, but better. I called a few more times, and texted her once. By the time I hit downtown Tulsa, she was mostly happy and asleep. _

_Zo didn't need me right away now, so I took a detour. I pulled up outside the old depot and headed down to the tunnels. I didn't see any security and no one was standing guard, but Stevie Rae was pretty smart, so I figured she had something set up. These vamp women were pretty damn awesome – yet another reason I can't believe I almost fell for the People of Faith bullshit. _

_I didn't know where Stark's room was so I had to do some Peeping Tom slash Wizard of Oz shit to check behind each curtain. No Stark in the left hand branch, but I didn't go any farther than the original tunnels. Stevie Rae's freaky-cool Earth tunnel to the nuns' abbey kept going on the left, but I didn't have a flashlight or a lighter and I didn't feel like stumbling blind for however fuckmany miles it was. I came back to the entrance and debated – go back to my truck for some light, or hit the right hand tunnels real quick. I made myself not be a baby and headed right. _

_When the "serial killer" got me down here I was trapped down the right hand tunnels. Then Zo got me out and – it took awhile and lots of headsplitting migranes – I got my memory back, and the "serial killer" turned into not-so-evil-and-murdering Stevie Rae and kids. But I still got a little queasy being down here heading right. The therapist mom and dad sent me to tried to tell me I had some PTSD, but I figure I just don't like being back where I got tortured, even though those kids are mostly normal and decent to me now._

_So yeah, I went right even though my gut was arguing that walking a few miles in pitch darkness back on the left hand side seemed like a much better idea, and I was getting weird feelings like someone was watching me, and I got more and more pissed that fucking Stark hurt my Zo, and my arms and chest were all tight and I was just looking for something to fucking punch, so when I turned the next corner and saw the light and heard Stark's voice I ripped down the curtain-door and punched Stark dead in the face. _

'_Course, fucking vamp caught my hand on the fly, his eyes were red, and I was paralyzed. The little guy – Jack – went "Eep" and he didn't move either. Then Stark spoke, real slow, and his words hit me right between the eyes. "Zoey. Is. All. Right." Whatever vamp mojo he was pulling on me stopped me cold. Stark cocked his head and Jack slid out of his chair and put it behind me and I sat. _

_Stark let go of my fist and his blood-glow eyes faded and I sagged in the chair like I'd just been sacked. Jack patted my arm. "You okay?" _

_I glared at Stark, but I'd gotten a grip. He put down the bow and arrow that had appeared in his hand. He's good with that bow, I'll give him that. I'm glad he can protect Zo, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let him make her cry like he did a few hours ago. "How do _you_ know?" I asked, nice and slow so he wouldn't red-eye me again. "Asshole." I added._

_Stark smiled like he was trying to bluff his way out of a fight after being sucker-punched. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong." It took me a little bit to get that sick grin, but then I figured out he was torn up, too. Good. _

"_I backed off from Zo because you were willing to die instead of killing her. That doesn't mean I'm gonna let you get away with whatever you did to her this morning."_

"_Umm – morning?" Little Jack squeaked. "Oh, yeah. A. M. – morning for you, right? Or do you mean last night? Our morning?" _

_Stark kept looking at me but his eyes stayed normal. "Jack, could you keep working on that - thing?"_

"_No problem, you want me out of the way?" Stark cracked an actual smile and I felt my mouth turn up, too. Jack was – perky. _

"_No, stay," me and Stark said together. Jack just giggled and patted my arm again._

"_C'mon, Duch," he said to the dog curled under the desk, and she uncurled and stretched. He motioned her over to the bed, and he took the laptop with him and sat in the corner. Duchess sat next to him and he petted her head while he typed something one-handed. "Don't mind me," Jack waved at us._

_Stark smiled, then turned back to look at me. His face got serious and he spoke real slow, making sure I was listening. "Jack's confused because I've been here, working with him all day." He yawned and shook his head a little, and I got it. I'm not book-smart but I'm not slow. They were pulling an all-nighter. It was – mental guess – about 11am. Vamp days weren't exactly 12 hours off (even though their classes were 8pm to 3am like human schools around here are 8am to 3pm) – they have to deal more with sun-up and sundown. They don't fry in the sun, (well, maybe Stark would, I didn't quite get the red vamp stuff and Zo didn't explain much) but come daylight, they got real sleepy. So for Stark and Jack to be up working it must be something important. And whatever happened to Zo, Stark wasn't with her. Didn't matter. Someone else needed a short lesson in How To Treat Zoey Right._

"_You're coming with, right?" I asked, and turned toward the open doorway. Stark caught my arm._

"_She's with Erik," he said quietly. _

_I wasn't getting the problem. "I don't care who she's with. Whoever it is gets my fist in his face." Then something else hit me. "And how do you _know_ she's really okay? _

_The look he gave me then was absolutely lethal, and I felt one-hundred-per-cent better, then one-hundred-per-cent more pissed off. He was her Warrior. He supposedly had her back. So then why the fuck was he letting her get hurt?! I might be human, but I could do a better job than him! _

_Then he gave me that sick smile again. "Zoey went to see Erik because they need to… Talk."_

_Talk. _

_Well, shit. _

"_They've got some issues, or so she tells me. I'm guessing your Imprint is giving you front row seats." He reached across and grabbed my forearm in a vamp way – their way of shaking hands, or teamwork or whatever. "I swear to you it's just their drama. If he hurts her any other way I'll shoot him in the throat." _

"_I'm good with that."_

"_Is there anything else? Kalona can get in her dreams if she's sleeping alone."_

_I sighed then, because I could feel how content she was. It was how she normally felt to me during the day – one of the reasons I could get through class. I knew she was asleep, and I could feel that she was okay. "Then she usually sleeps with you?" _

_Stark gave me a short, sharp nod. _

_Shit. Not something I really wanted to know. Well, at least I got some company, sharing the pain of having my girl be happy sleeping in some other guy's arms. "She feels the same as when she's sleeping with you. I guess that's good." _

_Stark looked away, and I caught Jack looking at both of us. He looked sad, and gave me a sympathetic little shoulder-shrug. Stark kept looking at the wall but said, "For the record, I think he's got issues, but I think he does love her."_

"_Yeah, he has issues." He gave me an earful of his issues when we were stuck at the nuns' abbey together during the Kalona stuff. Stark gave me a look like he wanted to know some details, but I waved him off. "And I don't care if he loves her." _

"_Yes, you do." Stark gave me a cocky grimace. "Just like you cared enough to back off and give me time with her. Just like I care enough to let her see you in the morning – tonight for you, whatever. You know what I'm talking about, right?"_

_Yeah, I knew. High Priestesses weren't monogamous, and Nyx, Zo's goddess, made it real clear that Zo needed all three of us guys. This was all kinds of fucked up. _

"_Somebody needs to start treating her right," I muttered. _

_That sick grin was stuck on Stark's face. "I think that's all you." _

_I left._

_So, Zo was with Erik. _With_ him. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it, or a damn thing about him making her cry. But she was meeting me tonight, and I could do better. _

_I found a decent hotel and made all the arrangements. I paid for it myself – like I told Stark, Zo deserved to be treated right. Using Mommy's credit cards to pay for a romantic getaway? Not right. I hit the Square and got some nice jeans and shirt. Those I didn't mind spending mom's money on – especially since I got a wine-colored shirt so if Zo wanted to do a little Heath-tasting, any blood that got smeared or anything wouldn't show. Since mom said to get clothes for church, I kinda liked the idea of wearing something there that I'd gotten for my vamp priestess girlfriend. _

_I grabbed a late lunch and caught a couple pickup games at the park. Basketball isn't my sport, but I'm decent enough. Besides, I _do_ do stuff other than hang out and wait for Zo - I'm not whipped or anything. Our bond thing caught me a few times, though. I got these waves of feeling like I was being watched, and I was pretty sure it was while Zo was dreaming. I paid close attention - since Stark said that Kalona creep could get into her dreams - but that was all I felt._

_I was heading home for dinner – I'd sneak out later to meet Zo – when something from dreaming Zo hit me so hard I barely kept enough sense to pull over. Something was pulling me, something intense. My whole body was on fire, icy hot. It was pure… sex. Worse than Zo and Stark, worse than her and Erik earlier. Worse than her first time with the vamp who stole our first Imprint. And the worst thing was, I didn't care a bit until it was over._

_I came all over myself. Yeah, time to cut off my hand. And bleach my brain. Fuck. I got my hand out of my pants and wiped myself off. I'd fucking burn the clothes later. _

_No fucking way that was her and Erik. _

_I called her. Still straight to voicemail. I sent a text, too, and turned the truck around. No fucking way could I hang around at home with mom and dad if I was getting stuff from Zo that had me beating off when I didn't even want to. _

_I managed to remember to call Mom and told her I was still with my friends and was going to a movie then probably out later – I tried to make it sound like I was asking, but really, no way was I going home. She drilled me on who, what movie, where we'd be hanging, what time I'd be home, made me swear I wasn't hanging out with "those awful vampyre kids", and made sure I knew I still had to go to church in the morning. I made some shit up that she bought somehow, and swore up and down I'd make it for church. _

_I made it back to the hotel without puking or wrecking the truck. I took a boiling hot shower and scrubbed off a layer or two of skin. I tried to think, but I felt like shit. _

_Fuck. She was dreaming. Hell, I think I _wish_ it was Erik. _

_At the abbey last month, Kalona was all weird about Zo being his reincarnated girlfriend or something, and now he was getting in her dreams. Yeah, I could be wrong, but something in my gut said I was right. Fucking hell. _

_I called her again. Nada. I would've called Stark, but I didn't have his number and what I got from Zo now was confusing me even more. She was awake. She wasn't great - probably still "talking" with Erik – but she wasn't a mess like I was. I felt fucking violated but she was back to dealing with her other drama._

_I tried to call a few more times and left a couple random messages, texts, too. I debated about making another visit to Stark in the tunnels but what was I going to say? Besides, _he _told _me _about Kalona getting into her dreams. He was her Warrior. Maybe he knew already. _

_I changed into my new clothes and settled for throwing the old ones away. I tried to hang in the room for awhile but nothing much was on TV and I was starting to climb the walls wondering what the hell Zo's deal was with the creepy winged dude, and thinking I should just go kick Erik's ass so we could eliminate some of the x factors going on. If Kalona was doing _that_ in Zo's dreams she didn't need Erik's shit, she needed to deal with getting the world-ending immortal out of her head! _

_But Zo's goddess was pushing some kind of guy-harem on Zo, and Erik was definitely part of the deal. No way around it, I had to wait a few more hours before I tried to help her. _

_I finally gave up pacing the room. It looked really good and I was gonna mess it up without meaning to if I stuck around. I took a taxi – no way was I risking the truck - and hit a movie. I needed _something_ to distract me from Zo, and it'd be easier to cover with my folks if I really did see a show. And man, did I need distracting. _

_Zo was all over the place: happy, sad, worried, mad, scared, turned on, shut down__. __There was even a weird rhythm in whatever she was going through – kinda like a really good game where you lose some ground and it sucks but then you keep pushing forward however way you can. But Zo wasn't going for a field goal or a touchdown, and the mental backwash from our bond was a bitch. I couldn't win: either Erik was going to break her heart – and even without our bond thing I can't stand to have her hurt - or I was gonna have to live through her _doing it_ with yet _another_ guy who wasn't me. _

_The movie didn't help worth shit. I stared at the black ceiling of the theater and concentrated on the shadowy shapes and dim lights and flickering reflections from the screen, and tried not to think too much about what I was feeling from her. Why did this bond thing have to work when she was with another guy? Why couldn't we just turn it off, just for a little while? It sucked big blue donkey balls to get stuck on these rides. _Hey Nyx, forget how shitty this is for _me_, how about giving _her_ a little privacy!

_No response from Nyx, not that I really expected one, and Zo was still coming through loud and clear. It was like she was under my skin, inside my _soul_. I got carried along on yet another wave of sadness and pain and confusion – I really was gonna have to rip that asshole a new one next time I saw him, and why the hell was she putting up with his shit, anyway? – and then… Well, fuck. I'm no poet, but I guess you could say she had some weird combination of super-frustration, but along with "I'm winning a really hard game" and "flowers are blooming and I've never seen beautiful colors like this before" feelings going on__. __Somehow, she loved him. It was twisted and difficult and painful and intense, but she loved him. _

_I was burning in hell. She couldn't hurt me more if she tried. After all that, every second of pain and anger and hurt and sadness and confusion and heartbreak and just plain fucking agony, she was in love. She loved him. She loved Erik. _

_I did not want front row seats to _this_. I tried to block off her feelings but I couldn't escape, couldn't feel anything else. It was really damn clear what she – they – were doing. I wanted to claw my skin off rather than feel her feelings, but my clueless cock was still straining against my pants. The blue balls I had going on were sheer agony, but I wasn't even tempted to give myself any relief. I finally just started calling her, over and over. She never picked up, but it gave me _something_ to do._

_I don't know how many times I called until they finally… finished. It was almost eleven and the movie was still going on, not that that made any difference. I felt like an ass, but there was no way I was giving up our date. Did she know? Did she care what she was doing to me? What would she say? I'd already left a zillion messages, so I didn't try to call again. I just texted: _You can tell me when you get here. See you in a few.

_I got a taxi and headed to the House of Night. If she wouldn't come to me, I'd go to her. Erik fucking Night. She loved him, so I couldn't do shit to him. Nyx wanted him around, so that went double. She was _happy_ – it came over me like sunshine – so I _wouldn't_ do anything. If he hurt her again, though… . _

_I was ready to camp outside her dorm until she finally left him, but turns out, I didn't have to. She was near; I felt her. I sent the taxi down some older, richer neighborhood streets, and had it stop and wait. I wanted to see her, I _craved_ seeing her. She said it was the Imprint, but I know better. I've loved her since I was nine, and nothing – not Stark, not her goddess, not the priestess shit, not Erik fucking Night – was gonna change that. She still felt the same, she _had _to, no matter what she felt for her other guys, no matter what the People of Faith bullshit said. _

_I jogged a little ways away from the taxi, freezing my ass off. It was so cold I could see my breath. Zo was a ways down the street, almost a ghost, all wavering mist and shimmering spirit, cloaked by her elements. If I'd been an ordinary human I would have missed her. She was dancing. Her happiness tingled along my skin like starlight. She was all at peace and calm and happy and part of her goddess and her elements, and I got to feel _that_ with her, too. Too. Fucking. Cool. _

_She saw me and let her elements go: they swirled away like a light breeze and she was there. After living with her under my skin this past month it was almost a shock to really see her, weirdly like a surprise that she still existed separate from me. She was here, she was solid, and she was happy. More than that, she was happy to see _me. _I caught up with her and grabbed her up in my arms. It felt so fucking good to have her pressed up against me, to get hard from her body touching mine, to _feel_ from our bond thing how safe and happy and loved and turned on she felt being close to me. _

_I kissed her; her mouth was soft and willing. She kissed me back, and I _knew_ – from our bond and because I know my Zo – that she meant it. I couldn't get enough of her. I made up my mind. We had a lot to talk about – even more, now – and Charlie's was too damn busy and crowded for what we needed to go over. I wanted to kiss her some more, touch her skin, feel her give_ me_ what she gave those other guys... I was getting ahead of myself, though. She loved me, her goddess liked me, we had our bond thing going. I wasn't going to pressure her. It was killing me that she'd done the deed with her other guys and not with me, but I've been waiting for her, and I could wait longer if I had to. I'm no saint, I definitely _wanted_ her. Part of me – yeah, you can guess which part – was ready to take her _now, _take her good and hard and caveman and wipe away what those other guys had done with her. But this was my Zo, and what we had was better than that. What we had was also fucking confusing. She just _did it_ with Erik fucking Night for crying out loud. Speaking of… _

"_So when do I get to kick his ass?" I asked her. _

…

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Continues in Zoey's POV about halfway through chapter 13.

So... *holds breath* what do you think?


	13. Zoey meets up with Heath

Author's note -

Just a short transitioning chapter...

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_Slept with Erik, on my way to meet Heath. See you tonight?_

Crap.

I deleted the text to Stark without sending it.

I was walking the five miles to meet Heath. I could have taken my car, but I needed the extra time alone.

I'd been happily entwined with Erik – all tangled limbs and damp hair and sweaty skin – and reality had started poking holes in the blissful fog that surrounded us. We loved each other. _We made love._ And I had no idea what either one - the emotion or the act - would mean, for either of us.

_I panicked slightly, disentangled myself, and escaped briefly to the bathroom. Out of habit I rummaged around in my clothes, found my phone, and checked the time. It was almost eleven p.m… and I'd missed a handful of messages, pages of calls, and over a dozen texts from Heath. The most recent said simply,_

You can tell me when you get here. See you in a few.

_Yeah. _

_The reason I'd really been avoiding Heath all month hit me like a brick wall. I'd been right. Heath had experienced everything I was feeling through our Imprint. And I was supposed to meet him at eleven at Charlie's Chicken. I nearly vomited in the sink. _

_I crawled back in bed with Erik, totally confused about what I should do, not even realizing that I was still holding my phone. Erik noticed, though. "Heath?" He guessed. _

_I nodded. _

"_Just go." He told me. _

_My chest felt hollow and heavy at the same time and my eyes burned with tears. How many times was he going to make me cry? Then he grabbed my face and made me meet his vivid blue eyes. "No," he said. "I know you have to see him. It's all right. I still can't promise you anything; just remember that I love you, okay?"_

"_I love you, too," I whispered. The words left my mouth as easily as exhaling. I worried that I shouldn't have said it – not when I was about to leave him to go see another guy, not when I'd refused to see it for so long – but then Erik smiled a heart-stopping smile. _

"_Okay," he said quietly, and kissed me so gently it was like I was suddenly something fragile and precious that he couldn't bear to chance breaking. _

And as crappy as it was to tell him I loved him then leave, that's what I did. I'd gotten dressed, texted Heath that I was running late… and started walking. I could have gone back to Erik – gone back, taken off my clothes, and stayed in bed with him all day. But I didn't. It wasn't fair to break my date with Heath because I finally realized I loved Erik. It wasn't fair to Erik, either, but dangit, I was doing the best I could.

The old, well-kept mansions I walked past stood tall and silent and still, their huge lawns stretching back from the street like massive outdoor carpets. The late January air was cold but I didn't even shiver, protected by my weirdly advanced fledgling metabolism and the extra hoodie Erik had loaned me. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the clean smell of the light dusting of snow that covered the ground, and the lingering smell of Erik from his hoodie… and from my skin. At least Heath didn't have Stark's red-vamp super senses: he might have felt everything I'd been feeling, but at least he wouldn't be bombarded by physical evidence of me being with Erik.

I tried to be happy. I _was_ happy! Erik still loved me, and amazingly enough, I loved him too. I twirled a little as I walked along the dark, quiet street, watching my arms shimmer in the harsh light of the streetlamps. I'd made myself blend in with the night to leave campus undetected, and I'd stayed that way, enjoying how it felt to be part of the elements. My body was insubstantial, almost ghost-like, a mixture of air, mist, and spirit, spinning and dancing under the moon.

Being part of the elements lent me confidence. _I could make this work._ Erik loved me, Stark loved me; I was positive Heath still loved me. And I loved all of them (yeah, even Heath – might as well get _that _angst out of the way _now_). Now all I had to do was figure out how they all fit in my life and what Nyx wanted with all of us. I could only hope that it somehow involved getting rid of Kalona. I loved three great guys – already well over the usually socially acceptable quota of, well, _one_ – and I definitely didn't need to add a deadly and scary (and insanely attractive…) immortal to the mix.

But I didn't have to think about Kalona right now. I felt Heath before I saw him, and I saw him well before Charlie's Chicken even came into view. The dork couldn't even wait for me; as soon as I'd gotten within weird-imprint-psychic-range he must have started jogging toward me. I should have been irritated, but instead I couldn't help smiling. Even without the Imprint he would have come; the Imprint just gave him better timing.

I thanked my elements and reluctantly let them depart. I'd really enjoyed being part of them and part of the night. It had made me feel closer to Nyx, more sure that loving my three guys was really what she wanted, that it was really okay. More than that, it had helped me feel connected to my goddess, a connection that meant more to me than I had ever thought possible. Among so many other things, being connected to Nyx had given me a new life, one where I belonged so much more fully than I ever had in my old one.

One part of my old life was worth holding onto, though, and he was (literally) right in front of me. Heath jogged toward me, 6'1'', 175 pounds of cute muscled quarterback. His short, slightly curly brown hair was neatly combed, and he was wearing a button-down burgundy shirt over dark jeans and a nice navy winter jacket. He looked _good_.

I knew_ I_ definitely did _not_ look good – I hadn't even had time to shower - but Heath didn't seem to notice. He enveloped me in a huge, Heath-sized bear hug, and I fit myself against his body as automatically and naturally as breathing. He tucked my head under his chin and held me tightly against him. Not just the smell of him – which _was_ amazingly yummy - but I guess I could call it his entire _essence_ smashed over me like a tidal wave. For a moment I was drowning under the barrage of _Heath_ – blood that I'd Imprinted as my own (and therefore the best smelling - and tasting - thing in my universe), and a rock-solid sense of security, love, shared history, and home. I'd _missed_ him so much, and I hadn't even realized it! I promised myself right then and there that I'd never stay away from him for so long again.

He pulled away just far enough to lean down and, smiling hugely, planted a huge kiss on my lips. I hesitated for just a second, then kissed him back. He ran his hands up my back and into my hair, cradling my head in his hands, holding our faces together. I leaned into him, grinning ridiculously hugely. I was just so _happy_ to see him! I let go of any lingering shame about kissing (_sheesh, if that was _all_ I was doing!)_ more than one guy, and threw myself into the exuberance of our little reunion. This was Heath. If I hadn't gotten Marked, he'd be the love of my life. Things were quite a bit different now, but he was still the love of my _human_ life.

He broke the kiss too soon and grinned down at me again. "So when do I get to kick his ass?" He asked.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" I raised my eyebrows up to my hairline. Not exactly the first thing I expected him to say.

He rolled his eyes and his expression got more serious. "Stark said you were with Erik, so whatever was going on with you today was his fault. So when do I get to mess him up for messing with my girl?"

I rolled my eyes back at him. There were so many things wrong with his answer that I wasn't sure what to say first. I tried to glare up at him but my body was still reacting to being close to him and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I narrowed my eyes instead and scrunched up my smile to look as irritated as I could mange. "First," I told him, "I'm not "your" girl."

"You'll always be my girl, Zo," he interrupted.

"Second!" I interrupted right back, "I do not need you getting all chivalrous on me and trying to defend my honor. Do I need to remind you that I could kick your butt with my elements? Besides, it _really_ creeps me out that you're psychically eavesdropping on me."

"It's not eavesdropping when you wake me up," he said seriously, no trace of teasing. He brushed my hair back from my face and looked into my eyes. "You had me climbing the walls all day and you wouldn't even answer your phone. I couldn't even relax when you were sleeping! I get that you feel like thing are better right now, but I still think I should get to kick his ass."

I blushed and looked down. I settled for a lame, "We've got a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"More than you know," he sighed – then tipped my face up and grinned at me, "but I promise it's not all bad. Mind if we catch a cab?"

"Charlie's isn't that far!"

"We're not going to Charlie's." He slung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in tight against his side. I slid my arm under his coat, against his back, and he leaned over and kissed my temple. I relaxed against him. For this moment, I was actually okay with someone else making the decisions.

We'd only walked about a block and a half (in a surprisingly comfortable silence) when we got to a cab that was apparently waiting for us at the corner. Clouds of exhaust billowed from it; I guess it was colder out than I thought. Heath held the door for me like the gentleman his parents raised him to be, joined me and told the driver to take us to the Presidential Suites.

I raised my eyebrows at him again, but he smiled, squeezed my hand, and shook his head. I went with the non-verbals and sighed, snuggled up against him, and rested my head on his shoulder. I was kind of glad to have a break before jumping into the deep and meaningful crap we had to talk about. I was trying not to freak, though, that he was taking me to a _HOTEL _to do our talking.

In just minutes we were pulling in front of the building, and Heath held my hand as he guided me through the lobby and up the elevator. "I checked in earlier," he offered by way of explanation, but once we'd entered the building he'd stopped looking me in the eye. In fact, he was looking around at anything _but_ me. I wasn't looking at much, though - the harsh lights of the lobby were really rough on my sensitive fledgling eyes, and I realized too late that I hadn't brought my sunglasses. I shaded my eyes with my hand and stepped in closer to Heath, pressing myself into his side. He seemed a little excited and nervous and I was starting to get suspicious - and nauseous. All too soon the elevator dropped us at the appropriate floor, then we were down the hall and Heath was swiping the key card and turning the door handle.

Then he stopped with the door opened just about an inch, looked over and smiled almost bashfully at me. "This _seemed_ like a good idea… just… no pressure, okay?" Then he scooped me up in his arms, pushed the door open the rest of the way with his shoulder, and carried me over the threshold.

* * *

Author's note - This was harder to write after Tempted. *sniff*

More soon!


	14. Zoey and Heath in the hotel room

_Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts! _

* * *

There were no lights on in the room, but the light from the hallway was more than enough to see everything. There was a spa tub in the corner, kind of triangular shaped. There was a long, low chest of drawers in a pale, whiteish wood along one wall. A TV sat on one end of it. The bed had a dark red bedspread with a matching drapey thing on the wall over the headboard. The nightstands matched the chest and there were tall-ish, antique-y looking lamps with small red silk lampshades. A plush burgundy chaise lounge sat in the corner of the room, next to the bed and in front of the room's one window. The drapes on the window were heavy and burgundy and held back by twisted gold-colored fabric cords with fancy tassel ends. A corner of the bedspread was turned down, and a single red rose was on the pillow. On the low chest next to the TV there was a bucket of ice with a large bottle chilling in it, and two champagne flutes. Everything was covered in rose petals, and more than a dozen unlit candles were placed carefully around the room – a few on the chest around the ice bucket, a few on each nightstand, and the rest lining the hot tub along the two sides of the triangle that were against the wall (leaving the front edge clear).

Every detail screamed _Heath. _My big, dopey, quarterback boyfriend had a romantic streak a mile wide. For just a second I got lost in the fantasy. "Fire," I whispered. _Please,_ I added silently, and, still in Heath's arms, I flicked my fingers. The candles all around the room lit up like they'd been sparked from within, filling the room with a gorgeous, warm, flickering glow. _Thank you._

It was all so beautiful and amazing… and I was definitely going to puke.

Heath put me down, closed the door, and said sadly, "Sorry."

"No!" I protested, grabbing his hand. "It's not… it's perfect." And it really was. A lump of sadness closed off my throat and I had to breathe deep to get air around it. I'd lost my virginity to Loren _on the floor. _Whatever the hell Heath was thinking, at least he was trying to do it right.

He squeezed my hand, "Don't be sad," he said quietly.

I suppressed a sigh. This Imprint thing was really going to take some getting used to.

"Is it because of Erik?" He asked hesitantly, "or is there more?"

"More?" Where would I start?

"More, like you're really _not_ my girl any more?" He said it like he didn't quite believe it, but someone was making him ask.

If Erik had said that I'm pretty sure I would have throw myself at him to reassure him, if Stark had said it I think my heart would have torn in half. Heath… it was stupid, considering everything that was going on, but my first thought was that I was surprised he had to ask.

I pulled his hand behind me, stepped closer, and pressed my cheek into his chest. His arms went around me and he hugged me close. I raised my head, and like it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned down and his lips met mine in a soft kiss.

"That's what I thought," he said – a little smug - and grinned down at me.

And it felt so familiar and normal and _right_ to be in his arms that I forgot about everything else. I snuggled closer into his chest. I'd been too quick to insist that I wasn't his girl. (I wasn't "his", but he's never meant it like that.) "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry you felt like you even needed to ask."

"You and me, baby," he murmured into my hair.

Ah, hell.

"I love you," I said firmly, trying to fill my head and heart with him so he could feel that I meant it.

He grinned at me again. "I know you do," he said, but he sounded relieved. "Come on." He guided me into the room, away from the door, sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled me down beside him. He didn't let go of my hand, and I didn't really want him to.

I was back to feeling awful, though. My stomach felt all fluttery and confused and still pretty close to puking. I'd agreed to meet at Charlie's Chicken so we could avoid a scene like this! Stark had said that me sleeping with Heath was inevitable, but was I really turning into such a ho that I could go _straight_ from Erik's bed to being with Heath?

"Zo, I said no pressure, okay?" he shook my hand enough to rattle my whole body, which actually helped to shake out some of the tension. He smiled at me, and I automatically smiled back.

His smile wasn't enough, though. "We need to talk," I said.

"Yeah." He sighed, then ruffled my hair, making it even more bed-heady than it already was.

"Quit it!" I ducked and slapped his hand away, and he grinned his cute, playful little boy grin at me. He's had a thing for messing up my hair since we first started holding hands in grade school.

I glared at him and he just laughed and held up his hands in mock-surrender. "Sorry. We gotta start over. I've had a shitty day, you've had –" he winced "- a lot going on today. We've got this great big giant tub, let's just get in, warm up, relax, and then we can talk."

"Heath –" I started.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman, Zo."

"I don't have a suit," I protested, but I was worn out from fighting Erik and I was already caving.

"Me either. I'll keep my boxers on if you want."

"…okay." I answered.

"Score one for Team Heath!" he cheered, and I couldn't help laughing. He shrugged out of his coat and immediately started unbuttoning his shirt. I blushed and looked away. Not that I hadn't seen Heath bare-chested before, I just felt wrong appreciating the view considering how the rest of my day had gone.

I went in the bathroom to grab some towels and slipped out of my clothes in private. I found two plush white terry-cloth bathrobes and wrapped one around me, covering up what suddenly felt like way too much skin - even with leaving on my bra and panties. I picked up the other robe and two mega-sized bath towels, and avoided looking at the mirror as I left.

I came back in the room and Heath was sitting on the edge of the tub, leaning over a little, probably testing the water. The candlelight rippled over the muscles of his back and arms, and his grey boxers didn't leave much to the imagination. Heath and I had done a lot more – physically – than I had with any other guy (until recently, that is…) so I knew his body. Add the Imprint, me not being a virgin anymore, my bloodlust… This bath was an incredibly bad idea.

He didn't turn around, but his head raised up a little as I stood there. I couldn't tell if it was the Imprint, or if he just heard me breathing. Yeah, I was getting paranoid about the Imprint.

"C'mere, I won't bite. But if _you_ want to…" Heath's voice went teasing but sexy, and my body felt things I didn't want it to.

"Heath, maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Nah, I promise I'll be good." He turned around and smiled at me. It was a nice, easy, not-sexy smile, but I still hesitated. "Hey," he added, "I'm just getting the hang of this bond thing we've got, but I do know that if you relax, I get to relax."

_Then what the hell were you thinking with this room? _screamed through my mind, but I didn't think I'd like the answer – no matter what he said – so I kept my mouth shut. He stood up and held his hand out to me, and I finally took it and let him pull me over to the tub. I was way too worn out - emotionally! Not in a ho-ish way! - from everything that had gone on with Erik, and I just didn't have it in me to fight. Of course, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be fighting Heath or fighting my completely unacceptable attraction to three (four, counting Kalona) different guys. I'd kind of felt at peace, happy even, about the whole guy situation when I was walking under the moon, but now I was completely nauseated by myself again.

But I still let Heath lead me to the tub and I still felt a sweet thrill at the warmth of his hand on mine. He smiled at me again and leaned over and kissed my forehead. "I'll even turn around while you get in," he said, and made a show of turning around and covering his eyes, and even singing a tuneless "la-la-la-la-la" as I slowly took off the robe and slipped into the water.

He made me laugh, but then the laughter died in my throat as I looked down and realized that not only was I showing a lot of skin, I was also completely exposing my scar. Ah, hell. I really needed to get over this – it was part of me now. I straightened up and turned resolutely, looking up at his…back, then fought the urge to curl in on myself when he stopped la-la-ing and turned around. He looked down at me and looked straight in my eyes, not looking any lower at the rest of me. "Can I come in now? If you really don't want me to, I can go sit on the bed and we can talk while you relax."

I did relax just a little when he didn't look down at my scar, but I was also irritated because I wanted him to look so I could just get it over with. And jeesh, he was offering to sit on the bed? Okay, very sweet offer, but totally too mature. Heath had never – okay, _rarely_ – pressured me about sex, but he'd also never passed up a chance to get close to me. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

He knelt down by the tub, then, and rested his arms on the side, still looking in my eyes. "Really, Zo. If you feel like shit, I feel like shit, so just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

He meant it, and his total sincerity made me slip and ask out loud, "Then why the honeymoon suite?"

He looked sad again and I regretted asking, but he answered. "I got it earlier, when you were having so much trouble with… Erik. I just thought it was about time someone started treating you right."

Yes, Heath's parents raised him to be a gentleman, even when the current situation didn't fit at all, so he was just doing his best. I totally didn't deserve him. I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. "Thank you," I whispered. I meant it to be a quick, chaste kiss, but once I got close I had trouble pulling myself away. I could hear the seductive rhythm of his blood rushing through his veins, speeding up now, in time with my own heartbeat. His scent filled my head - better than chocolate-covered strawberries or sunshine or bonfires or crisp autumn air – the deep and tantalizing promise of his blood.

He broke the kiss, but didn't pull away. His voice was a little deeper and a little husky. "Whatever you want, baby." He took my hand in his and raised my fingers to his neck - the spot where I drank from him before. He pressed my fingernails into his skin, but before I actually cut him he squeezed my hand gently and rested his cheek against mine. His voice was soft but more normal. "I promised you no pressure. Is this really what you want?"

Ah, hell. I was flushed and breathing hard, but I tried to pretend that he couldn't feel everything that I was feeling. "I don't know." I answered.

"Then that's a _no_," he said, and smiled slightly against my cheek. "I'm getting in," he warned, and broke our embrace like it was easy and climbed in.

"This is continuing the no pressure?" I asked as his body filled the tub next to me.

"Changed my mind. We need this," he answered, then he tickled my sides really lightly. He didn't attack or anything, just enough to make me squirm and giggle uncomfortably, but which also made me relax a little in his arms when he stopped. He buried his face in my neck and wrapped his arms around my stomach, pulling my back against the front of his body. A very hard part of him pressed against my lower back and I automatically pulled away. "Ignore that," he chuckled against my skin. "Just trust me."

His arms felt nice around my stomach and his body was warm and solid as he wrapped himself around me. His chin was on my shoulder and his knees were up by the sides of my boobs, and I gave up and relaxed back into him. "I love you, Zoey," he said quietly. "I know we've got a lot to talk about, where do you want to start?"

* * *

_Author's Notes –_

_Um, minimal angst. I'm not sure how I feel about that ;-b._

_I needed to get into Heath's head to help myself figure out him and Zoey, and I ended up writing about 4000 words in his POV from his Imprint with Zo during the Z x Erik chapters. I'm actually kind of happy with how it turned out. So, is anyone interested enough for me to post it, or is that lame?_

_Thank you all so much for the favorite adds and especially the reviews!!! _


	15. quick note

Hmm, sorry for the confusion. I uploaded the Heath POV, then moved it so it's kind of in order, right before the Zo x Heath chapters start. But the story alert took me to the current chapter, not the Heath POV... So, sorry again, if you were interested in checking out my Heath POV, it's now chapter 12. Thanks!!!


	16. Zoey and Heath working things out

_Still playing in PC and Kristen's amazing HON world!_

* * *

It felt _so_ nice to be in Heath's arms that I let my head fall back and rest on his shoulder. He pressed his cheek against the side of my neck. It felt so good that I didn't want to think about Erik, or Stark, (or Kalona…). I didn't want to think about the reasons I'd been avoiding Heath all month. I just wanted to be with him. I could still smell his blood, still feel it pulsing in time with my own heartbeat, still feel the electricity of his skin against mine. But there was more. In Heath's arms, I was definitely turned on – by his blood _and_ by him - but it also felt like all the best parts of being home.

"Told you," Heath whispered. I could feel him smile, and I smiled, too. I didn't even mind if he could feel what I was feeling through our Imprint; if he was, I was glad. Then my smile faded – even though I could still hear the smile in his voice - as he added, "Come on, Zo, talk to me."

Ah, hell.

I sent up a silent, wordless prayer to Nyx, and tried not to sound as miserable as I suddenly felt. "Do you want to talk about Erik and Stark, or our Imprint, or if we should break up again, or what we're going to do from here?"

His arms tightened around me in a comforting hug and he rubbed his cheek against my neck. "Whatever you want."

I stared at the textured ceiling and watched the shadows bounce a little from the flickering candlelight. I took a deep breath and tried to remember that Heath and I had always been good at talking things out. "How exactly does our Imprint work for you?" I asked finally. My voice sounded more timid than I wanted it to, but I at least I asked it out loud.

"I can't read your mind, if that's what you're worried about," he answered slowly, like he was feeling his way. "But I can feel what you feel. Most of the time it's really cool."

Ah, hell.

"_Everything_ I feel?" I asked cautiously, my stomach back to feeling like I'd eaten a giant bag of Doritoes and a two-liter of Mountain Dew all by myself.

"I think so." He hugged me closer. "It's okay, Zo, it's good."

My stomach twisted painfully and my words came out in a rush.

"Then what… exactly… do you know about me and Erik?"

Somehow, he managed to sound casual. "I know you were with Erik today and you were miserable." He paused, and the casualness sounded forced. "But you _did it_ with him. You love him. I don't get it, but I know you do."

_Oh, goddess… _It was one thing to be paranoid about our Imprint, it was a whole other horror to know I was right. "Yeah." I answered quietly. What else could I say? I closed my eyes: I still had to twist the knife more. "What do you know about me and Stark?"

If anything, he sounded slightly cheerful. "I know you sleep with him most nights. I know you do more than sleep." He paused just for a second, then a little bit of pain crept into his voice as he added, "You love him, too."

I didn't move a muscle. It was like – if I stayed still, maybe it wouldn't hurt.

"Yeah. I do."

Neither one of us said anything for a little while. I got super-aware of the water, of my bra and panties sticking to my skin. Heath's slow, even breathing was the only thing I heard – other than the sound of my own heart pounding; and the solidness of his body, still wrapped around me, seemed to be the only thing that kept me from spinning apart in a hundred different directions.

Then finally, Heath said, "You gotta say more than that, Zo."

My whole body cringed, and I sat up and pulled away from him a little. "I don't know what to say."

He kissed the back of my neck. "Just talk to me, Zo. I'm not going anywhere."

I let my most immediate worst nightmare out in a rush. "Maybe you should. Maybe us breaking up last fall was the best thing for you – for us. Maybe I should break up with you again. Maybe _you_ should break up with _me_.

He didn't pull away. Instead, I felt him smile against my shoulder and he tightened his arms around me again in a gentle squeeze. "Not gonna happen."

I wanted to feel relieved, but I couldn't. I twisted in his arms until I was looking directly into his eyes. "Heath, part of why we broke up last fall was because you were being a jealous jerk, and I wasn't even doing anything. This is a zillion times worse. You can't handle this."

His brown eyes met mine steadily, and he shrugged and smiled again. "I've handled it all month. I handled it today."

This was insane. There was no way this could work. "How?"

"I'm not gonna lie, Zo, it's been hell. But you're my girl. It's not as bad as when that vamp stole our bond thing – that hurt so much I wanted to die. This sucks but I really can deal with it."

I wanted so much to believe him, but… "When you walked in on me and Erik last month in the tunnels you got pissed and went straight for a bottle of wine. You drinking was the other reason we broke up."

"You dumped me because I was partying and trashed all the time," he corrected, "and I've stopped all that. I haven't had a drink all month. I even drank Coke at Chad's party last night. I'm not saying I won't ever have a drink again, but I'm not going to go back to being stupid about it."

"So what about the next time you see me with Erik, or Stark." I challenged.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," he answered quietly.

He looked so sad that I had to close my eyes again. I felt his arm go around my shoulders and he pulled me closer, pressing his forehead against mine. I shook my head the tiniest bit. "You say that now."

"I mean it, Zo."

I sighed. "You can't be telling me you won't be jealous."

He actually laughed. "I'll be jealous as fuck but I can behave myself." Then just the tiniest bit of hurt was back in his voice again. "Whatever you want, I promise."

"Dangit, I hate hurting you," I whispered.

"I know." And because of the Imprint, he really did. "But breaking up with me or breaking our bond thing would hurt me a lot worse. I can do this, Zo. Just give me a chance.

"I don't want to break our Imprint, I don't even want to break up with you," I moaned. I tried to remember the reasons I'd told Erik that Heath and I needed to talk. "But what if I only want you because of the Imprint?

"Does it feel like it's just because of the blood thing?" he asked, but as soon as I'd said it out loud, I knew it wasn't.

"No, it doesn't. But so what?" I wailed like a baby. "There's still Erik and Stark, there's still me becoming a vampyre – or dying – and there's still the priestess stuff. And that's just what I know about!" I poured out my worries and doubts, I couldn't stop. "I don't know where you fit in all this. You mean too much to me. As much as I want you with me, as my blood source, my boyfriend, my consort, everything, I want you to have a normal life too. I don't know much about what a consort is, but everyone keeps telling me it's hard. Us being together shouldn't be hard."

"Zo, I got it," he jumped in as I paused. I'd only just gotten started. "Erik filled me in on what a consort is and how shitty it is and how I should get you to break our bond thing again. _I don't care_ about any of that. We'll make it work. We always have.

I wanted to say this was different, but I couldn't make myself say the words. Instead, I got derailed by the obvious question: "since when do you talk to Erik?"

"When we were stuck at the abbey last month. He has _issues_, Zo. I don't get why you haven't kicked him to the curb yet."

"I love him." Loving Erik was too new, too close to the surface, and I couldn't stop myself from saying it. Crap. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"No, I know. I wish I didn't, but I do."

"I love you, too," I insisted.

He smiled then and leaned closer, and really, really gently brushed his lips against mine. "I know that, too."

"How can you be so okay with this?" I murmured.

"I'm not," he answered. He turned his head but pulled me closer; and my forehead and the bridge of my nose ended up getting smushed into his cheek. "But I told you already: you're in a whole different world now, I get it. If I have to share you, I will."

A hundred different responses went through my head but I settled on the one that popped into my brain first. "That's… kind of gross."

He turned his head and kissed me long and hard on the mouth. When he pulled away, leaving me shocked and breathless, he gave me a grin that was as cocky as Stark's. "I don't care," he answered.

* * *

_Author's Note - So they're working through their issues slowly but steadily... And I'm writing, slowly, but steadily ;-D. _

_I've been wondering, do you prefer shorter chapters like this one with faster updates (for me, that means every 2-4 weeks, I'm just so OCD about getting every word the way I want it that I revise everything about a hundred times) -- or, do you like super-long chapters that covers more ground, story-wise, but takes longer between posts (I promise no more 6 month writer's blocks! More like 6-10 weeks for some mega-long chapters). _

_I'll admit I'm leaning toward shorter chapters and faster updates, but I don't want to drive anyone crazy with the "action" moving so slowly, too... PM or let me know in your reviews!_

_One more thing..._

_** THANK YOU!!!** to everyone who is reading, adding the story and me to your favorites, and especially, ESPECIALLY, those of you who take the time to review!!! I heart you all!!!_


	17. My Consort

_Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts..._

_A late Valentine's Day gift to Zoey and Heath..._

* * *

I took a deep breath to steady myself because my heart was pounding and my head was spinning. Heath's kiss would have made me weak in the knees if I'd been standing up. Since I was sitting down, it was just my insides that were turned to mush.

Heath's grin got wider. "So are you done trying to get rid of me?"

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning back at him, and concentrated on _not_ kissing him again. It didn't matter that I wanted him, it didn't matter that I loved him. Staying with me would change his whole life, and he just wasn't seeing that! His utter confidence in us made me just so _happy,_ but his complete lack of good sense just made me want to pound something into his thick jock skull. "I don't _want_ to get rid of you, I just can't see how this can work!"

"You're not trying to get rid of your vamp boyfriends," he stated abruptly.

My brain did a full stop. He was right: I wasn't. I'd basically spent the last twenty-four hours convincing Erik we _could_ be together. I'd agonized over hurting Stark, but didn't even _think_ to debate our Warrior-Priestess bond. I didn't want to let Heath go, so why was I fighting so hard against accepting his place in my life?

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," I repeated again, more quietly this time. "It's just that everything is different now. You're still human, you don't have to do any of this. I guess I just want to make sure you're not going to hate me for messing up your life."

"I won't hate you, Zo. Ever."

He looked so serious and scarily adult that I felt something inside me let go. Nyx wanted him to be part of my life, I wanted him to be part of my life, and he wanted to be part of my life. We'd deal with the rest.

But I added anyway: "Okay. For now. But if being with me messes up you being human too much I swear I'll break our Imprint again."

Heath just grinned again. Me saying that didn't hurt either of us, so we both knew I didn't really mean it. Dang imprint. "Then that's easy," he said. "We won't let it."

I smiled, finally. "Dork."

"But you love me."

I sighed, leaned closer, and stopped to answer just before my lips touched his. "Yeah. I do."

The kiss started slow and gentle, then deepened and got more interesting. It was like I'd crossed a line when I finally accepted that loving Heath and wanting to keep him with me was better than hurting him by sending him away. Now that that line was crossed, I wasn't quite sure where we stood. It was like all the old boundaries just got thrown out, and now we had to negotiate new ones. But I was having trouble even thinking about boundaries, because all my senses were full of Heath. I couldn't remember why I shouldn't drink from him, couldn't remember why we shouldn't make love.

Every part of him just pulled me in, the taste of him, the smell, the feel of his body – wider and bulkier and more muscular than either Erik or Stark – and especially his blood, rushing just beneath the surface of his skin. The water schloshed around us as we shifted positions, moving more into the middle of the tub, and the candlelight glowed like gold behind my closed eyelids. I ran my hands up Heath's arms and across his shoulders, re-learning the shape and feel of his body, and his hands followed the curve of my spine. He cupped my butt in both hands and pulled my whole body closer, kissing me so deeply his tongue was practically in my throat. I pressed myself even closer, exploring his mouth just as deeply. The draw of his blood was so strong that I had to ball my hands into fists so I wouldn't accidentally cut him with my fingernails. I didn't stop kissing him or touching him, though, and everywhere he touched _me_, my skin tingled and burned, and a different kind of warmth spread… lower.

"Zoey," Heath murmured, even while his hands moved to massage my breasts and my mouth moved along his jaw and down the column of his neck. Even while I was trying to resist, my subconscious was pulling me forward to the soft, tempting spot where Heath's neck and shoulder met, the spot where my mouth fit so easily when I drank from him before. "Zo, we gotta stop."

I knew he was right, but I was having trouble stopping. I knew how good it would feel to drink from him, and if I truly accepted the place Nyx had for him in my life, that included drinking from him, right? His voice was strained and a little frustrated. "Zo, mixed signals, baby. You weren't ready a few minutes ago; do I listen to this, or do I back off?"

I struggled to pull my mouth away, but I only managed to tuck my chin closer to my chest and press my forehead against his broad shoulder. My hands were still in fists, and I brought them around to his chest to try to push myself away. I tried to remember why I was resisting and couldn't, but I figured there was a good reason. "You're right," I muttered.

Instead of pushing him away, though, my clenched hands slid down his chest to his stomach, where they brushed against a different kind of hardness. Heath groaned. "God – Goddess – Zo, you're killing me." But his hands covered mine and pushed them against the bulge in his wet boxers.

"Sorry," I answered in a raspy whisper. His mouth was hot but gentle as he kissed my forehead, my temple, and my hair, moving to suck intensely on a spot just behind my ear. That spot was somehow connected to other soft spots in my body, making everything, especially everything… lower, thrum like an electric current with the voltage going up.

"Just –' he started, voice low and thick in my ear, "no sex, okay, just – help me out." He guided my hands over his length and tipped my chin up so my mouth was against his skin. Then his tone got vulnerable and hurt and frustrated a lot like he was seriously pissed, but I could tell - because I know my Heath - that he was trying _so _hard not to be. "My blood feels like it's on fire and this - " he pressed my hands more firmly around his painfully hard erection and groaned again from the shifting pressures. "I could go take care of myself, but – I can't turn off the bond, you know? I can feel you… with them. I'm trying to deal but it would help if I could feel you… with me."

_Oh goddess. _ A wave of shame and – well, frankly, revulsion – crashed over me again.

"Don't!" he said. "It's not my favorite part, believe me, but don't think about it. Just think about being with me. Please."

I thought about how good his blood would taste, how it would make me feel. I wanted him so much I felt dizzy. "I don't know," I whispered. I couldn't think. I slid my hand inside his boxers and wrapped my fingers around him. I stroked the swollen, taut, sensitive skin. I felt him drop his head back and heard him grind his teeth.

"That's not saying yes." He answered, frustrated, angry, hurt. "Please, Zoey, say yes."

"No sex?" I managed, not sure why that was even a problem. He was rock-hard in my hand under the clinging wet fabric, and his blood ran like a hidden stream just millimeters under my lips.

"Shit, Zo," he let out a frustrated bark of laughter. "I've had blue balls all month - I wouldn't last. I don't care for me but I want our first time to be good for you." I struggled to listen, to hear what he was saying, all the while his blood sang in my ears and I may have actually moaned a little. He forced another chuckle, trying to lighten the nearly desperate tone in his voice. "Drink, use your hands, _something,_ I'm dying here. Please, babe."

His blood _was_ hot, almost feverish - which only made it smell more amazing and enticing and harder to resist. Why was I resisting? He smelled wonderful, and it just felt so good to be so close to him. He took my other hand and placed it on his shoulder, then dropped his hand away. He wasn't going to do it for me this time. It took more effort that I thought it would to hold myself back. I hadn't ever cut him by myself on purpose. "Are you sure I won't hurt you?"

His voice lost the light, cheerful edge he'd been forcing and went husky. "I'm sure."

His heart pounded in my ears in the exact same rhythm as mine. It was like it was _my_ heart, pulsing under his skin, under my lips. My skin was burning; his blood was boiling. I could cool his blistering pain, I could soothe both of us. My body sagged against him. He snaked one strong arm around me, holding me close: gently, firmly, carefully. I tilted my head. This wasn't about teenage hormones. This was about _need. _We were connected by blood and passion and history, and I was hurting us both by fighting it.

"Yes," I said.

Our hearts were throbbing as my thumbnail split his skin, layers of skin peeling apart like an opening flower. Blood filled the furrow and I wrapped my mouth around the wound. The first taste of his blood hit me like a gunshot, tight and sharp and so good it hurt, then as his blood continued to flow into my mouth, my senses locked into sharp focus. I drank and drank and drank and each mouthful was like the best-tasting chocolate-wine-honey-strawberry-sunshine-snowflake-kiss, and each swallow had me quivering, that low warmth and electric tingling spreading and building like he was moving inside me.

Finally, with no interruptions and no near-death experiences and no audience, we were together, Priestess and Consort. Blood tied us together and anchored us, a wild island away from a crazier world. I drank and drank and drank and our passion climbed, until one last exquisite swallow of his blood threw me over the edge. In the solid embrace of my consort, my climax bowed my back and locked my jaw and made huge splotches of red and blue dance across my vision. In the middle of all that pleasure, though, was a truth as bright as the sun. Through blood, passion, need, and history, in sharing this ancient connection with my consort, I was home.

* * *

_Just a *little * over 4 weeks, and I hope to get the next bit posted faster! Thanks to all of you who took the time to review or PM - you are all so wonderful and supportive and you keep me writing!!! _


	18. Zoey and Heath finally together

_Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts..._

* * *

My whole body was still quivering when I could finally open my eyes and finally feel more than the power of Heath's blood. I was pressed against his body with my mouth still locked over his bleeding shoulder. He still tasted amazing, but the almost frantic _need_ I'd felt for his blood had calmed. I gently ran my tongue over the bloody gash – I'd cut him more than I'd meant to – and thought, _close now._ The blood stopped flowing and the skin even pulled together a little, already starting to heal.

Heath slumped just the tiniest bit against me and I had a quick flash of panic. This was the first time I'd drank from him where we hadn't been interrupted or I wasn't almost dying. When we'd been interrupted I hadn't drank from him hardly at all, and when I was almost dying (and we re-Imprinted) Darius had been there to take care of Heath as well as me. Now we were alone and I didn't have any idea how much I'd drank and hadn't even thought to be careful. Crap! I'd been in such weird denial about seeing Heath again that I hadn't even read the vamp soc book on drinking from humans. I _could _have controlled my bloodlust, but I hadn't even tried.

All that went through my head in about a split second, because Heath hugged me closer and leaned his cheek against the top of my head. "I'm fine, Zo."

I pulled away to look at him. His brown eyes looked tired, but he smiled the cute, dimpled guy-grin that was just for me. "I didn't take too much?" I asked out loud, wanting to make sure he understood why I was worried, not just reassuring me because he felt my fear.

"Nope. I'm not gonna go run laps or anything, but sitting here with you is just fine. If you're worried about me, there's orange juice in the fridge."

"Orange juice?"

"It's what they give you after you give blood so I figured, just in case…"

I kissed him, not sure how I felt about him being prepared. I silently promised myself I'd make time to read, and went to get the juice for him. I dripped all over the carpet. I handed him the bottle and only noticed his balled-up wet boxers on the floor as I was climbing back in.

"Heath?"

"They were gross, Zo."

He drank his orange juice while I considered what he meant. Okay, it took me a minute. I'd had sex with three guys (in a distressingly short amount of time) and had figured out a lot of the not-quite-sex stuff with Heath before I got Marked, but it still took me a minute to figure out why he'd taken off his boxers. He'd promised not to pressure me, so… _oh_.

"Okay," I shrugged, trying not to think too hard about it. I looked away as I finished getting back in the tub. That's when I realized that I was relieved but surprised that _my_ bra and panties were still on.

"Sorry," he said when he finished his juice.

I was sitting just a little bit away from him, facing away from him, feeling a little self-conscious about what we'd just done, his boxer-less status, and my scar. To give myself something to do I'd knotted my matted hair up and off my neck. "What for?"

I could hear the smile and the embarrassment in his voice. "I pressured you when I promised I wouldn't. I'm really sorry."

I paused and thought about it. He had, a little, but – "I think the blood connection is stronger than either one of us was prepared for. It was even harder because I stayed away from you all month. Plus I think you kind of got it in stereo – you wanted me to drink and you could feel me wanting to drink, too. I was actually going to say thank you for keeping your promise about no sex."

"What?"

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. "I wasn't really thinking clearly, but I kinda didn't think either one of us was really going to stop once I started drinking from you. So thank you."

He didn't say anything, and I suddenly realized that I probably just said the absolute most wrong thing. He'd felt me having sex with Erik and Stark (hell, he'd felt me losing my virginity to Loren), and I was thanking him for not having sex with me. Crap.

I meant it, though, twisted as it was under the circumstances. I just wasn't ready to sleep with him, not yet. But a few minutes ago I might have done it even though I wasn't sure. Now that the bloodlust had cleared I could put more words to what I'd been feeling. When I'd said "yes" to him, I wasn't ready to have sex with him, but I also hadn't really believed that either of us could control ourselves when I drank from him. I'd been nearly blinded by my bloodlust, though, and some bizarre, absolutely not logical decision got made that if it happened, it wasn't necessarily _okay_, but… Now that my brain was thinking in words again instead of just red-hot emotions, I was glad – and, well, pretty much amazed – that we hadn't had sex. Drinking from him had felt so good that I'd almost assumed that we had.

"Um, I don't know if you noticed," he said finally, "but I didn't last very long. I'd love to take credit for my awesome, massive restraint, but really, it wasn't even a possibility."

I turned my head around to look at him. I did not expect him to say _that._ He turned a couple shades of red as I gaped at him. He looked so uncomfortable and I was so shocked at what he'd just admitted that I laughed out loud. "It's not funny!" he protested, which only made me laugh harder.

He looked _so _embarrassed that I almost felt bad for laughing. I realized that it was actually pretty brave of him to admit that, if I understood guy pride right about that kind of thing. I turned around completely, putting my arms around his neck. "It's not funny," I agreed, stifling the rest of my laughter. I kissed his cheek and even though he was completely naked I snuggled in against his body. He finally relaxed a little and put his arms around me.

"Shit," he said, but I could feel him smiling as he finally cuddled me closer.

He paused, then added almost conversationally, "Should I be hurt that you're willing to drink from me but you don't want to sleep with me?"

Ah hell. At least he didn't sound mad. I was bouncing back and forth so fast between wanting him and not being ready to have sex with him that I guess he stopped taking it personally. It felt like he'd decided to treat me like kind of like a bouncing football: at a certain point it's just easier to stand back and let it settle before you try to pick it up again.

But, if I accepted the place Nyx had for Heath in my life, according to Stark – and kind of even Erik – I could… Should. Sleep with Heath. Of course, I'd just made love with Erik, but really, what _was_ the acceptable amount of time between having sex with one boyfriend and then another?

Okay, _hours_ was probably not the answer to that question.

But.

Kalona had shown up in my dreams this morning. We didn't know where or when he'd show up again, and we had no idea what he would be doing. If the events of the past month and a half were any indication, Heath and I could have thirty more nights like this one – or two weeks straight (if we were lucky!) of hopefully-preventing-the-end-of-the-world drama. All I knew for sure was that for this moment we were together. We were together in a beautiful room that he'd made look like a fantasy honeymoon suite. None of my other guys had bothered.

There was all that, and also, even though my bloodlust had cooled… dangit, my senses were still inundated with _him. _Did I feel like a super-nasty ho for having an orgasmic blood-sharing experience with Heath, and for currently being held against his naked body, especially so soon after sleeping with Erik? Oh boy, did I ever. But did I still want to have sex with Heath anyway? _Crap. Crap. Crap._

Yeah.

Yeah, I did.

I turned my head and pressed my lips against his neck. "I'm sorry for the mixed signals." I said quietly. "I want to make love with you, I do. I don't know why it's different with you." Then I corrected myself, "No, I know a hundred reasons why it's different with you."

I was about to go into those reasons but Heath interrupted me, not sounding worried at all.

"Zo, I guess I suck at not pressuring you about the blood stuff, but I've had lots of practice about not pressuring you for sex." He ran his hand up and down my back. His touch was comforting and wonderful and only a little bit sexual. "I just had to ask."

I straightened up and looked him in the eye. "I don't know if it's going to be tonight, but I will make love with you. You're my consort and the first guy I ever loved. Just give me some time."

"You got it, babe. Take all the time you need." He really did sounded like he meant it. I laid my head back on his chest and closed my eyes. We cuddled like that for a little bit, and Heath played with my fingers. At one point he took my hand and turned it over, rubbing his thumb over the tattoos on my palm, and completely changed subjects. "I can hardly believe some days that this is you."

His words didn't feel right, and I was a little surprised to realize why. "I feel like this has always been me. I know it hasn't, and I remember my old life just fine, but just the way I _feel…"_

I looked up, and I saw understanding in Heath's brown eyes. Stark and Erik felt very far away. "Not me," he answered. "You're still my Zo. You just look a little different. But I get it. We can't go back."

I held his gaze. "And I don't want to."

He paused, then nodded and smiled a cute, shy-football-jock smile. He rubbed my palm again and his eyes traveled slowly over my face, like he was seeing me for the first time. "Can I see the rest?"

I took a deep breath, feeling strangely exposed, and turned around. I pulled my knees up to my chest and curled myself around them. Heath didn't move or say anything for a little while, but I swear I could feel his eyes. His fingers were light when he finally touched me. "Did they hurt?"

He traced the tattoos on the back of my neck over my shoulders, but his touch was _so_ light it didn't feel good, almost ticklish. I squirmed. "At first. It felt like they were being seared into my skin. But they don't itch or scab over or anything. Except for when they happened, it's like they've always been there."

He pressed more firmly, tracing the pattern where it ran on either side of my spine and wrapped around both sides of my waist. "What do these little symbols mean?' he asked. "They look a little like the stuff from the pyramids, but not really."

"I don't know. _We_ don't know," I realized, thinking of Damien. "I'm an idiot. We should be researching that." I hid my face in my hands. _Crap crap crap._ "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

Heath scooped up a double-handful of water and poured it on my neck and shoulders, then scooped more handfuls and poured them down my back. The warmth was soothing while I mentally beat my head against the hard side of the tub.

"I bet Damien did," Heath reassured me. "That's why your goddess gave you awesome people like me in your life. She doesn't expect you to do it all by yourself."

He sounded so smart and adult again that I barely recognized him. I relaxed just a little. "Thanks."

He continued to wash my back. That's what he was doing, but I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. Whether he meant to or not, it felt right – or better, at least. It was like he was washing Erik off of me, giving me a way to mentally separate what I'd done physically with Erik – and what I realized I was probably going to do with Heath.

It was lucky for me that he couldn't read my mind about that since I still wasn't _really_ sure I was ready to add Heath to the list of guys I was sleeping with. I wanted him, but having two guys on that list (three, counting the things Kalona was almost doing to me in my dreams) was already too many for me. Hell, _one_ was kind of too many. There was a terrifying (tempting…) immortal somewhere in the world doing something that was probably incredibly frightening and destructive. And I was having sex. Lots of it. How was this helping again?

And I was still enjoying Heath's hands on me.

"Zoey," Heath's voice was different. "Can I see what he did to you?" I was lost for a second. I was pretty sure I was not thinking what he was thinking.

"What?"

"Your chest. Where you got cut. I've been trying not to look, but I think I need to."

My heart hurt a little. He'd grown up a lot in the past few months. We all had, but Heath especially. I really liked the changes in him. He was still the sweet jock I've always loved, but he was also proving that he was smart – something I've always known but he'd rarely used for anything other sneaking beer and pot and memorizing football plays. I was also seeing just how strong – emotionally – that he could really be. Most importantly, I was finding out that he loved me more than I ever knew and ever really thought possible.

He poured water over my shoulders again, brushing his hands down my arms. I reached over and caught his hand as it reached my wrist and guided it up to my shoulder, where the scar started. He wrapped his other arm around my stomach, pulling me closer, my back against his chest. "It's hard to let you see it," I admitted. "Maybe it would be easier if you felt it first."

He rested his cheek against my temple. "Whatever you want."

He didn't move his hand, and I realized he was waiting for me. It was a different kind of waiting than Stark's hesitation in fully making love to me. That was more about hurt and fear, even though it was also about how much Stark cared about me. Heath's waiting was more about respect, and patience. He was waiting for me to be ready to share this new part of myself.

I took his hand and flattened out his fingers. I covered his hand with mine, pressing his palm flat against the scar. He pulled me closer, and the pressure of his hand on my chest felt eerily like the heaviness I felt whenever I cried. The sensation of sadness and tears faded when he lightened his touch. He kissed my cheek and waited again.

I guided his hand across the thick, ropy tissue. I even bent his fingers a little, helping him feel along every inch of the scar. It wasn't so bad, having him touch it. Maybe Stark and Erik's reactions were helping me accept it, maybe I was just getting better because _I_ was growing up a little. It was kind of ridiculous for me to lead a team to try to save the world if I was worried about how I looked in a tank top while doing it.

I twisted in Heath's arms and raised my chin. I met his eyes and he smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. "Take a look," I said, trying to sound casual.

He looked, and his expression was surprised, not upset or sad or disgusted. He met my eyes again and his brow furrowed. "Zo, it's kinda pretty," he said, touching it again. "It feels a little different but I bet the scar tissue's gonna go away with your awesome vamp healing and all. Even if it doesn't, it doesn't feel bad and it doesn't even look that bad. The swirls and stuff around it make it cool, like a giant necklace almost."

He looked down again and then he did look sad. "I'm sorry I screwed up and you got hurt. You almost died in my arms and I'm never gonna forget that." He moved his thumb across the tattoos. "Your goddess is so awesome that she can make this pretty when it was so horrible."

My heart squeezed. I caught his hand and pressed it against my lips. I said the only thing I could. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

I kissed him, and he responded so eagerly and sweetly that my heart hurt again. I twisted around completely and straddled him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling our bodies together. He was soft where he pressed between my legs now, but as we kissed more I felt him twitch and harden again. I moved against him, and the contact, even though we were separated by my wet panties, made my insides tingle and burn.

I felt muscles relax that I didn't even know were tense. More than that, even though physically we were doing other things, it was like I'd unclenched my fists and let him take my hands.

"Yes," I said between kisses.

Heath's arms were wrapped around me and his hands were in my hair. "Yes?"

"Make love to me."

He kissed me harder, his tongue twisting around mine. "Now? Are you sure?" His mouth was asking, but the way our bodies were pressed together and the way we were already moving against each other told me he wasn't really hesitating.

"Yes," I said again.

"Fuck." He stopped moving, but the tension I felt in his body showed me the effort it took him to stop. "There's more I need to tell you. Important stuff."

I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him deeply, and he relaxed into the kiss. At this point my body was screaming at me to keep going, but if Heath was going to be the responsible one I had to stop. I finished the kiss and pulled my lips away, not far, just so we weren't touching. "How important?"

"Very," he answered, almost reluctantly.

Heath's brown eyes were so serious but his mouth and hands and body felt so good against mine. "Is the world ending tonight?" I asked, half seriously.

A slow smile spread across his face, just inches away from mine. "Not so far."

"Can it wait until morning?"

He actually seemed to think about it while his hands threaded deeper into my hair. His smile brushed across my cheek. "Probably."

"Then give me tonight."

He pulled me even closer and our bodies molded together. He paused with his lips almost touching mine, his eyes serious again. "Why did you change your mind?"

I held his gaze and let our lips brush together. I couldn't give him just one reason. I knew why I'd taken so long to decide. First and most basically, we'd already waited so long in the life of our relationship that it was almost weird to stop resisting. Most importantly though, he was still human, and our Imprint made me afraid for him – that as much as I tried, he really didn't have the option to walk away. And finally, I still felt like a horrible person for being with more than one guy. I loved Stark, I loved Erik, coming _straight_ to be with Heath after making love to Erik still made me ill, Kalona still lurked constantly in a very near corner of my mind… But something had shifted between Heath and I tonight, making the last few months of craziness feel really far away.

On some level I still felt like I shouldn't be doing this, but I shouldn't _not_ be doing this, either. Heath was as much a part of me as Stark and Erik, maybe more. Stark might be my soulmate, Erik might bring dizzying passion, (and there was still Kalona…). My connection with Heath might be more about history and home and blood and sex, but there was also friendship and love. Physical stuff aside, I had enough room in my heart for all of them. And Nyx wasn't separating the physical. If I loved Heath, I could make love with him, too.

"It feels right."

Our mouths met again. His voice was soft. "It does."

He took control, pushing me backwards until my back hit the side of the tub. He ran his hands slowly over my body and my back arched in response, seeking more. He positioned himself better between my legs, not for actual sex but for a better angle to fit our bodies together. I let my head fall back as he kissed down my neck.

"Here?" His breath tickled my neck in a really good way.

"What?"

"Here, are we going to do this here, in the tub?"

Crap. I had trouble focusing on anything other than the feel of his body, but sex in a bathtub would probably get uncomfortable pretty quickly. "What do you think?"

Something in his voice was different, even though he kept touching me. "Zo, you gotta make the call. I haven't done this before."

"Me either, so maybe this'll be good." The way his mouth felt along my collarbone made the need between my legs almost painful.

"No, at all." His mouth stopped and he cupped my cheek. His voice was serious. "Zo, you're my first, I've got a really good idea what to do, but you're going to have to tell me what you want."

A surge of anger flared through me. I was his first? Ah, hell. Hell! Hell hell hell hell hell! I'd just always assumed that Heath had had sex already, either after I was Marked or even one of the other times we'd broken up. He was the football star: he always had girls throwing themselves at him. As close as we were, that was the one thing I'd never asked. I'd never wanted to know.

The anger – and the guilt - hit me all over again. Why couldn't Loren Blake have left me alone? Why did I have to be a stupid and gullible baby and fall for his lies? I don't know why it mattered so much to me but it did. I was sorry all over again, sorry that I'd slept with Erik, even sorry that I'd slept with Stark, and really, really sorry that Kalona never really left my thoughts and my body never quite forgot the icy fire of his touch or the way his eyes looked into me. I should _not _be Heath's first, not when I was sleeping with two other guys and could never fully shake Kalona's hold on me.

My first time – _our _first time – should have been beautiful, special, in a room like this, with the candles and soft music and just _us._ Now there was no way that would ever happen. Not only had I screwed up and lost my virginity to Loren, but I'd also shared my body and my heart with Stark, and Erik - and even Kalona intruded here, with the frightening draw he held on my very soul. Heath and I would never be just _us_ ever again; our lives and my love would always be entwined with my other guys.

Angry tears burned hot trails down my cheeks, and Heath looked horribly confused, trying to understand my reaction and deal with what he was getting emotionally through our Imprint, too. I tried to explain. "It's just not fair," I ground out. "And I can't blame anyone but me. This should be _our_ first time, not just yours."

"It's okay, Zo, this is just how it is. It doesn't matter."

I tried to pull away, still angry. "We shouldn't do this."

He ignored my drama and laughed, trying to calm me down, I think. "It's okay, it's different for guys. I just wanted you to know because I want it to be good for you. I got the up close and personal for how much you enjoyed it the other times you had sex." His voice sounded weird but he kept going. "Just tell me what you want."

Dammit! I pulled away from him and got the hell out of the tub, furious at the universe. What did I want? "I want you! I want to forget Loren Blake. I've loved you since I was eight years old and I want you to be _my _first, too."

Heath was half out of the tub, still trying to understand and still trying to tell me it didn't matter. "It's okay, Zo."

I shook my head so hard it hurt. "No, it's not."

He came over and gave me a hug. His wet, naked body still felt so good against mine. "It is. Tell me what you want."

"I want this to be last year," I said more quietly, cuddling closer in his arms, now more for comfort than sex. "I want to say yes to you before any of this happened, me getting Marked, any of it. I want this beautiful room to be where you brought me so we can make love."

"Okay," he whispered in my ear. His voice changed again, only this time it was because he was trying to act – and he was doing it badly. "Zoey Montgomery, I love you. Will you have sex with me?"

I was caught between angry tears and a giggle. "Call me Zoey Redbird."

His voice got softer, more intimate. "Zoey Redbird."

I let myself melt a little more in his arms. I wasn't being fair to him – again. It was just me having the drama; he really did seem confused by how upset I was. Heath made me feel safe and loved and really, really turned on. If Heath really wanted to be with me, I couldn't hurt him more by being ashamed and angry.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I want to make love with you. I'm ready. I don't want to wait any more."

He kissed me, and it was a kiss that told me everything would be all right. He slowly pushed me backward toward the bed. His hands cupped by breasts and his thumbs moved over the fabric. "Can I take this off?"

I nodded, our faces still meshed together. He removed it expertly, something he's been good at since middle school. I shivered.

He tried acting again and he was horrible at it and I loved him even more for it. "Are you scared?"

I shook my head.

"It's okay if you are. We're not going to do anything you're not ready for. That _we're_ not ready for."

I couldn't help my grin. His acting was _so_ bad but he was saying exactly what I would have wanted him to say if I was still 16-year old virginial Zoey. I stopped kissing him long enough to tease him. "You've been ready since you were twelve."

"Eleven," he corrected, and gave me a cute, impish smile. "But being ready and having you in my arms are two different things. We can stop any time." His grin turned wry. "It's not like I'm not used to blue balls."

I cringed – that just reminded me too much of what he was probably feeling when I was with my other guys. I decided to pretend a little more, too. I think my acting was better than his, but it didn't really matter. "You really won't be mad if I make you stop?"

"Nope." His voice was softer, forgiving; he'd seen my cringe. But he kept up with the bad acting and the perfect words. "Are you saying you don't want to try? We could just watch TV, I think they even have an X-box…" He let go of me and turned like he was actually considering playing X-box instead of making love with me.

I grabbed him. My kiss was rough and forceful but he opened his mouth to mine so willingly, so welcoming and gentle, that I just melted. His arms went around me again and I let my body mold against his.

"Can I take these off, too?" he asked, his fingers sliding under the elastic of my panties.

_Hell yeah._ But I kept up the acting and pretended to be nervous. "Okay."

He smiled. I wasn't fooling him a bit, even without the Imprint. He peeled my wet panties off me, though not quite as smoothly as he'd removed my bra, and his hands and the rest of him against my completely naked body were electric and scary and completely right all at the same time.

He slipped his hand between my legs and his fingers explored the soft wetness there. He groaned and buried his face in my neck. "Zo…"

"Take me to bed," I whispered back.

He didn't push me back onto the bed like I almost expected. Instead he led me to the bed, pulled the sheets back, and handed me the rose from the pillow. He kissed me again and we moved together again, finding our way under the sheets. I managed to put the rose on the nightstand without crushing it, and without stopping touching him.

We kissed and touched and held each other, and Heath's hands slipped between my legs again. I parted my legs for him and kept kissing him, running my hands through his hair and over the muscles of his back and down over his tight butt.

"Yes," I breathed, answering his unspoken question.

He slid one finger inside me, then two, and I thought I might explode right there. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer, loving the feel of his fingers in me and his erection pressing between my legs. "Please," I whispered. I wanted more. I wanted _him. _

He stroked his fingers inside me and positioned his hard length, then slowly drew his fingers out and pressed his erection right at my entrance. "Are you sure?" he asked, struggling to hold himself back.

I held _myself_ back from sheathing myself around him. My voice was shakier than I expected. "I want you inside of me."

He looked in my eyes, and his eyes were full of love and wonder. He filled me slowly and I tilted my hips, bringing him deeper inside. His eyes held mine as he stroked in and out, and my body opened more to accept him.

It was perfect. _He_ was perfect. I kissed him again, and his tongue filled my mouth like his hardness filled the rest of me. He thrust harder, deeper, and the tingling and warmth built and got more intense.

I realized, through the haze of pleasure, that Heath had an advantage, and he was using it. He could feel what I felt through the Imprint. I wasn't sure how much he got through the link, but it was more than enough to know what I liked and if anything wasn't working. And wow, what he was doing was working.

He kept moving inside me, changing his speed and depth and pressure just right, keeping that low warmth and electric tingling building steadily. He experimented a little, finding what worked and what worked even better, and at one point thrust in deeply and I gasped and arched back, my muscles spasming near-orgasmically around him.

He grinned down at me, still moving just the right way to maintain the warmth. "Is that okay?"

_Oh, goddess. _I barely managed speech. "You know it is."

He grinned again, ridiculously cute and totally proud of himself, and thrust into me again. A squeal caught in my throat. His mouth was by my ear. "Yeah, just checking."

I grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth closer, arching my back and forcing my hips upward. "More."

He kissed me deeply, stroking inside me harder, deeper, bringing almost embarrassing noises out of me. His thrusts got more erratic, less smooth, less controlled, and I encouraged him, thrusting my hips up to meet him and thrusting my tongue just as deeply into his mouth. Between one thrust and the next I finally came undone, my insides exploding in pleasure, my muscles spasming around him. Noises just as embarrassing as mine came from his throat as he felt me climax, then again as he buried his face in my neck and emptied himself inside me.

His whole body shook as he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close, still inside me but soft. I wove my fingers into his hair, kissing the top of his head. "Thank you," I whispered.

He laughed shakily. "My pleasure." He paused, then raised his head and looked down at me. Love filled his eyes. "We're good together."

I cupped his cheek in my hand and kissed him again. I was so glad I said yes, so glad he still wanted me, so glad we could still be together. "We are."

* * *

Whew! :-D

But I'm not done! There is actually a reason that Nyx has given Zoey these three great guys to love and to love her. Fewer lemons ahead, but I hope you'll stick around and let me know if I can pull off the rest of the story without the lemons being the main focus (although there still is Kalona, and I promised my friend another Stark… ;-D)! Even if not, thank you for sticking with me this far, and especially for adding me to your favorites and *especially* for taking the time to review!


	19. Heath shares unpleasant information

_Author's note: Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts!_

* * *

Heath and I made love again and again, cuddling and talking and falling asleep in each others' arms in between. He kept trying to tell me the "important stuff" he needed to tell me, but I kept making him stop. A weird kind of feeling – not a vision or even a goddess-given premonition or anything, maybe just paranoia – made me want to put off whatever Heath was going to say. Maybe it was just that I wanted to keep shutting out the rest of the world for a little bit longer, to really pretend this was like a honeymoon night with him. Reality was going to start smacking me around again soon enough.

The only reality I wanted was to be held in Heath's arms. It was amazing to me how _right_ it felt, to be completely naked with him, to touch him knowing we didn't have to stop. I was finally okay with admitting that I did still love him, would always love him, and would fight to keep him. Of course, I'd fight to keep Stark and Erik, too…

My guys were just _different. _Somehow, that had to be part of why it was okay, right? Even making love with them – _not_ comparing them physically, that's just gross – but the whole emotional part of making love was different. Erik was the most passionate, definitely, in the let's-break-some-furniture kind of way, but that wasn't about loving him more – or less. Stark was wonderful and very likely my soulmate, but making love with him just always had that sad undercurrent of pain that I wished I could take away. Being with Heath – despite the inevitable angst over being with him so _soon_ after sleeping with Erik - was just… easy. It was almost ridiculous how easy. The Imprint helped, definitely, but it was mostly about how much we already knew each other and simply that he made me… happy.

"You make me happy," I actually said out loud after one of the times we made love.

We were both absolutely drenched in sweat and the white hotel sheets stuck to us in odd places. Heath's face was pressed between my breasts and we were both breathing heavy. "Happy?" he grinned up at me, and I brushed back the wet curls that were sticking to his forehead. "That's it?"

I started to protest and explain, but Heath squeezed tighter around my ribs, keeping me from talking. He slurped sloppy, sweet kisses up my throat until he reached my mouth. He gave me a good, long, deep kiss, then looked into my eyes. His were absolutely shining. "Nah, it's good. You make me happy, too."

I hugged him closer and we snuggled into the soft mattress together, cocooned in the damp hotel bedsheet. His body was warm and solid and wonderful. His heartbeat and the complete safety and connection and love I felt in his arms lulled me to sleep.

* * *

I woke up happy, just blissfully happy. I was in Heath's arms and that overwhelming feeling of _rightness_ surrounded us like the softest, fluffiest blanket ever. We were both kind of sticky and gross and I was a little sore but I didn't care one bit. Heath made me happy, and for just one last moment, nothing was as important as being held in his arms and me holding him back. Sadly, one last moment was all we got.

It was just past sunrise and soft light was outlining the edges of the thick hotel curtains. Sunrise was usually about my bedtime at the House of Night, so I felt kind of disoriented. I guess that in the last few days of being with Stark, Erik, and Heath (yeah, I know…) I hadn't exactly gotten much sleep, and the little I had gotten – and the weird times I had gotten it - had completely confused my brain on what was day and what was night. Being in Heath's arms made it even more confusing: I felt positively human again, waking up to meet a wonderful day.

"Zo, I need to tell you some stuff now," Heath's said. His voice dropped out of the dimness, and the happy, contented feeling dropped too. The candles had burned out sometime during the night, the flames dunked under puddles of melted wax like scuba divers disappearing under the water. I could still see enough in the thin light that leaked past the curtains. The big hotel bed was messy, the white sheets twisted and rumpled and covered in the remnants of hundreds of rose petals. The candles sat, discarded, on every surface. My robe and Heath's clothes lay in crumpled lumps on the floor. Everything in the hotel room looked washed out and grayish in the dim light. This room, which seemed so amazing and perfect last night, now seemed somehow flat and ordinary.

It was like the weight of Heath's imminent confession squashed the fantasy and wonder right out of the room. He was right, though. He was better at this consort stuff than I was. I wanted to pretend I'd just spent the night making love with my high school boyfriend for the first time. He was dealing with the reality that he was also my consort – even though neither of us really knew what that meant – and that I was also a high priestess, even though I was already in way over my head. We'd had our beautiful, perfect night together, but now it was time to go back to the real world. I was basically a high priestess, he was my consort, and if he had more to tell me, I had to listen.

"Is it really that bad?" I asked, and I swear I only sounded a little pitiful.

Heath held me tighter for a second, and his body felt hard and tense.

"I told my parents," he answered. I didn't say anything, but my stomach felt icky and a lump formed in the back of my throat. Heath's parents were decent but pretty clueless about Heath's extracurricular activities – meaning, anything outside of schoolwork or football – so _anything_ he told them was going to be a surprise. Over the years I've kind of wondered if they stayed clueless on purpose. "I just told them that we broke up. When our bond broke. I was really messed up," he added, almost apologetically. I hugged him back, pressed my lips against his chest, and just wallowed in guilt for a minute.

_I'd _ been the clueless one when it came to breaking our Imprint. I'd actually believed Loren when he'd said that breaking my Imprint with Heath was better in the long run and that Heath would get over it. That obviously wasn't the only thing Loren lied about, but at least his other lies only hurt _me_. Yes, Erik finding Loren and me naked together was horrible and Erik was still hurting from that, but that was really my fault, not Loren's. Even actually breaking the Imprint with Heath was my fault, since I'm the one who acted like a ho and slept with Loren in the first place. But I blame Loren for lying to me about the broken Imprint. Maybe it was still kind of my fault for believing him when I should have known otherwise. But if I'd known how much breaking the Imprint had hurt Heath, I promise I would have done things differently.

"I know you're sorry, babe," his said, feeling my guilt even though I didn't say anything out loud. "I forgive you, I do. It just hurt a whole bunch, and I needed somebody to talk to."

I guess it could have been worse. I thought about my former BFF Kayla, who was always ready to jump at a chance with Heath, and about sweet Casey, who was at Charlie's Chicken with Heath when we had our awful post-Imprint breakup scene. I thought about all the other girls who came onto Heath at parties when they thought I wasn't around.

Who else did he tell? Who was there for him when I wasn't?

"I told our new pastor," he said. Okay, I wasn't expecting _that_ at all. I knew Heath's parents went to church – this was the Bible belt, after all - but it seemed like they went because of the social aspect, not because they were really into it or anything. "Mom and Dad sent me to a therapist," Heath continued, "and when he figured out about the vamp connection he had me tell my folks. He recommended the pastor at People of Faith."

Not just a new pastor at his parents' church. A new pastor at their _new church_ - the People of Faith_. _Heath's clueless parents sent him _there? _"What did you tell him?"

Heath got really still. "A lot."

Well… crap. Crap, crap, crap. Another girl I could handle. Theoretically. I mean, Heath was dealing with me and my other guys. I could deal with Heath being with someone else. Maybe. Anyway, apparently that wasn't something I had to worry about. Heath's parents had taken him to the People of Faith, a church that hated vamps and claimed we were evil. The pastor probably tore him apart. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head. He struggled – because I was being dense, I guess. "It's not what you think. He was nice. They all were."

Ah, hell. Was this what Heath was trying to tell me all night? That he joined the People of Faith but somehow he still loved me? "Heath…" I started.

He stopped me. "There were other people at church who went through the same thing – having a bond break, anyway. Not a lot, just one here in Tulsa, but others in other churches they had me talk to." That _really_ stopped me. There were other humans out there who were dealing with broken Imprints? Why were the People of Faith helping them instead of a high priestess?

He kept going. "They told me how vamps are evil and it wasn't my fault and it was a good thing that I got away from you. I tried to tell them you weren't like that, but I was hurting so bad I guess for awhile I started to believe them."

That about made me cry. I'm not sure what made me feel worse – that I hurt him so much that he wanted to believe I was evil, or that I hurt him so much and he still tried to defend me.

"When you called on New Year's - about Kalona – I had to know. If they were right. So I got in my truck and found you. Then you got hurt and we got bonded again, but you still dumped me for fucking Night."

"I didn't dump you," I protested weakly.

"You didn't dump _him, _though." He didn't sound mad about it now, just stating what happened.

"No, I didn't." I loved Heath, but he wasn't the only guy in my life. I was going to have to be brutally honest about that – with myself and with my other guys – if this gruesome foursome of me/ Stark/ Erik/ Heath was going to work at all.

"I'm dealing with it now but I wasn't then. This is the part where things got real confused and I think I screwed up. Even after the stuff Night told me while we were at the Abbey I still wanted our bond, but you made me stay away. And my folks saw my arm, where you drank from me, and they sent me back to the pastor and church. I didn't sell you out, I promise. I never stopped loving you. I was mad and hurting but I was still trying to tell them that you weren't evil. I know I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn't. I told them about Kalona and the bird-things and your professor. I didn't tell them everything, Zo, but I told them a lot."

Ah, hell. What would the People of Faith do? Would they even believe him? I felt shaky and a little angry and kind of a little hyper-calm – basically not sure if this was a different kind of apocalypse or just business as usual for the People of Faith. "What happened?"

"I dunno," Heath answered. "It seemed like they took me seriously. They asked lots of questions. I made sure they knew that Kalona and the bird and your professor were gone, so maybe they won't do anything." He sounded unsure but hopeful, like it couldn't possibly be as bad as he thought.

"Okay," I said finally. "I guess we just wait and see. There's enough other stuff to worry about, we'll deal with the People of Faith if we have to."

"Sorry," Heath said like a little kid. Crap. It wasn't his fault he'd gotten sucked into my crazy new life, and it wasn't really his fault that he'd gotten mixed up with the People of Faith. No matter what, no matter what happened, I wasn't going to beat him up for this.

"I'm sorry you couldn't talk to me." I hugged him again and reached up to kiss the soft spot just under his jaw.

My big, strong quarterback seemed really young and vulnerable and it was my turn to wrap him up tighter in my arms. "I wanted to talk to you. I kept my phone on all the time, even snuck it in class. My whole life, you've been the one I talk to. Having you avoid me was worse than having our bond break. When you called to warn me about Kalona that's what I wanted more than anything."

"Really?" My sweet, all guy, jock boyfriend missed the _talking_ the most when we were apart?

He chuckled and shifted a little, angling his neck so my mouth was closer to where I drank from him, and his hand brushed over my breast. Both movements made me shiver in a definitely-not-cold way. "Really. I missed the other stuff, too –" he moved his shoulder so my mouth brushed against the cut. Never, in a bazillion years, would I have thought that was erotic before I got Marked. _Now…_ "- but I thought if you cared enough to call, if I could just get you to drink from me again we'd get the bond back and I'd get _you_ back, too."

Dangit, I really _would_ forgive him for starting an apocalypse. How did I get so lucky that he would love me this much? "We'll figure this out," I told him. "I don't have a clue _how, _but we will."

"Uh, Zo?" he said, sounding a little more like his normal self. "There's a little more."

Really, nothing could be as bad as the People of Faith. "I'm listening."

"My parents are prejudiced against vamps. I never knew it until you got Marked, and then they just got crazy when they joined the People of Faith. I think I convinced them that we didn't re-Imprint during the New Years' stuff, but they don't want me around you or any of the other vamp kids. And," Heath sounded embarrassed. "I kinda have to go soon and go to church."

So Heath's parents hated me. That hurt, but it wasn't really a surprise. Not that they were prejudiced against vamps – I actually wouldn't've guessed that – but that they didn't want Heath around me. His parents had always been nice enough, but I think they always figured Heath would find someone else when he got older, so our whole lives they kind of treated me like a temporary thing in Heath's life. When we kept going out in high school they seemed vaguely alarmed, the couple times we'd (temporarily) broken up they'd seemed happy to ignore me completely, and the times we'd gotten back together… well, in the last year or so their niceness definitely seemed strained. Come to think of it, I wonder if me getting Marked was the start of their vamp prejudice. Maybe I was being way too self-centered, but the timing was right. It would probably be a lot easier for them to hate their son's evil vamp girlfriend instead of the girl he'd been with his whole life and they just kinda wished would go away.

So, on top of everything else I was dealing with – Kalona, Neferet, the red fledglings, my guys, having _way _too much sex – I needed to worry about the People of Faith and Heath's parents, too. Put that way, I was _so _beyond caring what Heath's parents thought or said. I'd already admitted to myself that I'd fight to keep him. If this was the fight, bring it on. "So you go to church, don't tell them anything else, make up stuff if you have to, and we sneak around to see each other. And next year you'll be at OU with your scholarship and it'll be easy." I didn't mention that we might all be dead by then, anyway.

Heath grinned. "As easy as that?"

"As easy as that."

"You and me, baby."

I snuggled into his arms. "You and me," I answered. His heart pulsed against my cheek, comforting and erotic at the same time. He was going to be in my life for a long time – if we survived. Compared to everything else that was going on, disapproving parents were easy-peasy. An echo of something Heath said last night popped into my head. "You said it wasn't all bad?"

"Hmm?"

"The stuff you had to tell me, is there anything _good_?"

"Oh yeah," Heath grinned into my hair. "Your goddess likes me."

I snuggled closer. "Of course she likes you." Heath had his faults – drinking too much, getting jealous, focusing just a little too much of his life on football, among others – but he was also the sweetest, most decent guy I knew. He also loved me despite everything I'd put him through. Of course my goddess would like him!

"Aw, I wanted to surprise you." He sounded just a little disappointed.

I twisted around a little so I could see his face. "What do you mean?"

"I went out to the lavender farm after church a few weeks ago – Grandma's better." He said. I was briefly distracted and glad - I'd talked to Grandma on the phone a few times since we banished Kalona, but it was good to hear that Heath actually saw her. "I was messed up because of church and not seeing you and being worried about you, and hanging out with Grandma helped. She sent me on a walk around the farm to check the fences."

I felt homesick and grateful at the same time. I couldn't count the number of times Grandma had me check the fences when I was having a bad day or week or just needed time to think. I wasn't surprised that she gave Heath the same job. Even if we ever did break up, Grandma would always treat Heath like family. "I'm glad you went to see her."

"Me too, Grandma's cool. And," he paused, watching me closely, "around back, your goddess just kind of appeared."

"_What_?"

_Now_ Heath was getting the reaction he wanted. He gave me a big goofy grin, happy that he finally surprised me.

"And she _talked_ to you?"

"Well, yeah." He had the most adorable, mischievous expression on his face and was definitely enjoying himself.

My head was spinning. Nyx actually _talked_ to Heath? She didn't talk to Stark, he just felt her. And whatever way she communicated with Erik just pissed him off, so she couldn't have actually _talked_ to him. Hell, I was her chosen high priestess and she'd only fully spoken to _me_ twice! But Heath, my very, very human boyfriend / consort, got a personal audience with my goddess.

"How could she talk to you? What did she say? _Why _did she talk to you?" I just couldn't get over my shock.

He shrugged, and looked a little more serious. "She helped me understand some stuff, about high priestesses and guys and you and how you need me but you need those other guys, too. It sucks, but I guess I'm more willing to put up with it because your goddess said so."

One of those gut-deep, solid feelings from Nyx settled in my stomach. Heath was important, to me and to her, and she – we - were asking so much of him that she wanted to tell him herself. _Thank you_, I whispered in my mind. I was suddenly scared, though – and maybe I should have been all along. What _was_ she asking of him, of all of us?

"And she said she likes me," he added. "She said I was 'refreshingly human' or something."

I'd been so focused on feeling awful for acting like a ho (but still wanting my guys) that I hadn't _really_ thought of whyNyx would want them around. I tried to shake off the fear. "I know this sucks for you. I'm glad Nyx made it easier."

He kissed me, and his voice was worried. "It's good, right, Zo?" Dangit, of course he would get what I was feeling through the Imprint.

"It's good," I assured him. I tried harder to hide my growing panic. "Did I ever tell you Nyx appeared to _me_ at the lavender farm?"

He looked deep in my eyes, goofy grin gone, and his eyes were so clear I swear – even though our Imprint doesn't work that way – that I could read his thoughts. _Tell me, Zo._ My head shook 'no' with just the littlest side-to-side shake. He cupped my cheek in his hand. His words said one thing but his eyes said another. "Nope, you never told me. Nyx is close to your Grandma. That's cool."

"Yeah." I forced a smile. I was Nyx's High Priestess, she was taking care of me, I shouldn't be scared. Yeah, right. I got really aware of Heath's body again, the hard muscles, the yummy smell of his blood. My heart was pounding in my chest.

Heath covered my mouth with his, soft and sweet. I met his kiss hungrily, and he held me tighter, one arm around my shoulders, one twined around my waist. I relaxed into his arms and let my body soften and mold against his, enjoying every hard muscle and another, very specific hardness. He kissed me deeply, and moved his hands slowly, caressing my back and shoulders, stroking down my backside and the back of my thighs. I breathed out the fear and breathed in the solidness of _him_. His kissed down my throat and further down, over my collarbone and my scar. His mouth settled just a little lower. I ran my hand over every bit of his body I could reach, touching him, caressing him, stroking him as much as I could. I felt safer in his arms, and just for a little while longer, I really, really needed that.

"Zo?" he asked.

I tried to keep my voice light. "One more time?"

He tightened his hold on me, just the tiniest bit, but I could feel him smile against my skin. "Oh, hell yeah."

* * *

_Meeting in lounge at 9. Important._

_Bring Heath._

The texts were waiting on my phone, timestamped hours ago. It was 8:15 now, Heath was in the shower, getting ready to leave for church. I'd been tempted to join him in the shower, but decided to wait my turn. We probably wouldn't've left the room at all if I'd gone in with him... And now, a message from Stark.

Stark, as my warrior, not my boyfriend. A meeting when the sun was bright in the sky. This couldn't be good.

I was trying to fight off my returning panic when my phone vibrated in my hand one more time.

_Come up first? _

It was like he'd hesitated, for hours, before asking.

One of the guys I loved was just a few feet away from me in the shower. One of the other guys I loved was just a few inches - and a few miles of air - away from my fingers typing my response. My heart felt… bruised.

_Of course._

_

* * *

_

_Author's End Note:_

_Burned comes out in less than a week! I can't wait!!!_

_This story takes the characters in a different direction after Untamed / Hunted. I'm sorry this chapter is so late, I spent extra time plotting out more specifically what's going to happen so I'm not *too * influenced by the next book. I think I've diverged enough that I'm not guessing the real end to the series, just playing around in the HON alternate universe. I think I'm about 3/4 done with this story!!!_

_As always, thank you *so * much for adding me to your favorites and especially for taking time to review!!! _


	20. revelations before the meeting starts

_Still loving playing in PC and Kristen Cast's HON playground..._

* * *

The morning sun was painfully, _painfully _bright. Everything was blazing reflections and sharp lines and hard colors and asphalt and cement and metal and brick. The air was crisp and still and cool, and the sky was blue – unreal, cartoon-character blue. This early (in the human world, at least), we were practically the only people outside and moving. Heath got me to his truck by wrapping me in his coat and basically running me across the parking lot.

We didn't talk any more, but we held hands as I huddled low in the seat. I still had Heath's coat wrapped around me, but there was no way I could totally hide from the daylight. Heath had called his parents while I was in the shower, but I didn't ask what he'd told them. Too many other thoughts were elbowing their way through the mess in my head. Maybe to give me time, or maybe for reasons of his own, Heath drove the speed limit, not racing to our new possible crisis but not crawling reluctantly, either. The rich houses and cars we passed were so still it was like we were traveling through a life-sized 3-D photograph instead of real homes where real people lived and worked and had no idea that a dark (and horribly seductive) immortal could change their lives very soon, possibly today.

We parked and Heath guided me through campus under the ancient, tall trees that somehow provided zero shade. Campus was quiet, eerily so, like no one even lived here at all. I had to shake myself to remember that everyone else was almost definitely in bed, asleep. Stark's text had said to meet in the lounge, so we went straight to my dorm. Apparently the risk of getting caught after curfew _and _having guys in the girls' dorm wasn't a consideration. I would have chosen Stevie Rae's tunnels, but there had to be a good reason we were meeting here.

Even with my amazing fledgling eyes it took a minute for them to adjust after being out in that super-bright daylight. After all that brightness, though, the darkness of the lounge was such a huge relief that I just stood there for a second inside the doors with my eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths and letting my muscles relax. My other senses started to work a few seconds later and I heard the quiet murmuring of my friends. I leaned into Heath's strong body one more time and he squeezed my hand. He kissed me, just a quick brush of his lips across mine, but it still made my stomach flutter. "Go ahead," he said.

And… my stomach twisted. I was still happy being with him, happy about our night together, happy about hoping for our future together. He was right, though, and he knew it. I was feeling all kinds of guilty, but as happy as I was with Heath, I was still aching to get back to Stark.

I squeezed Heath's hand back, one more time, and kissed his cheek. I pressed our faces together for just a second longer, letting him feel how happy he made me, how conflicted I was about leaving him. Just this once I thanked Nyx for the Imprint… and then I forgot to even say hi to the rest of my friends and I was up the stairs.

* * *

I swear I could feel him before I even opened the door. Then I was inside and his arms were around me and I _knew_. I would always love Heath. I'd loved him practically my whole life already. Now that I was Marked and Nyx's priestess, he was also my consort. Because of that, he was my link to my past, my home, and – in some strange way I knew - my humanity. He made me happy, he made me feel loved, and I loved him back with every bit of my heart.

But Stark was my soulmate and my future.

Stark kissed me, and I kissed him back and knotted my fingers in his hair. I pushed him backward until his back hit the door, slamming us inside my dorm room together. The door was hard and cool and smooth and I nearly bruised my knuckles as I pinned Stark against it. He held me close, so firmly and tightly that we were both having trouble breathing.

He broke the kiss because I couldn't. He pressed his cheek against mine and chuckled, but his grip on me was still reassuringly tight.

"Priestess." He was breathing hard, and his voice made it sound like he was worshipping me.

I twisted in his arms so I could look up into his eyes. "I love you."

"How are you?" he asked more normally.

"Better now."

He grinned his cocky grin and kissed me again. I relaxed into him and breathed him in. I wanted – needed – his hands on me, needed his skin pressed against mine. But everyone was downstairs waiting. Also, my ho-ish-ness was still not completely okay with me: Stark-Erik-Heath-Stark? In less than seventy-two hours? I wanted to – needed to – and I also couldn't.

I wrapped my arms around Stark – I couldn't take things any farther, but I also couldn't let go of him - and tried to distract myself. It felt like forever since I'd been in my own room. The shelves and desk were still fairly neat, just like I'd left them, but there was an unfamiliar laptop in the middle of my piles of papers. Dirty clothes were in a pile in the corner. I still – thankfully – hadn't gotten a replacement roommate, so Stevie Rae's old bed was bare. I'd given her back her old quilt that I'd gotten from storage after she "died", so there was nothing on the mattress to make it pretty. I kept planning to go to Target or something and get a comforter, but I just hadn't made the trip yet. My own bed looked slept-in. With everyone coming in and out of my room all the time, I usually try to keep my bed made.

"You've been sleeping here?" I asked Stark. I swear he almost blushed. "That's really –"

"Pathetic?" he grinned.

"_Sweet,"_ I grinned back.

"I've been in the tunnels part of the time," he said. "But I'm used to sleeping here."

"You can stay here as much as you want." I hugged him and pressed my face into his neck. "I missed you."

"How did things go with Erik?" He asked casually, like he was asking about a paper, or a test.

I froze – I couldn't help it. It was like I could feel Erik's body again, instead of Stark's. I could see Erik's eyes, staring hard into me when he told me he couldn't promise me anything, but he did love me. "I love him," I whispered.

Stark let out a shuddering breath but didn't let go of me. "Told you so." His voice was light but laced with pain, and I swear I could feel him force a cocky grin.

Crap. Crap. Crap. "I love Heath, too. I always have."

"I know." He whispered.

"I love you more," I tried. In that moment it was absolutely true.

He kissed me again and I leaned into him with all my strength. "Good," he said, so quiet that I barely heard him.

We stayed that way, pressed up against the door. Shutting out the rest of the world. Then his phone alarm went off.

He broke the kiss and met my eyes. "Showtime."

I wasn't ready, but I was supposed to be a high priestess, so my actual readiness didn't really matter. I reached up and touched Stark's forehead, letting my fingers trail down his cheekbones and tracing the super-cool red arrow tattoos he got when he Changed. "My Warrior."

He kissed the filled-in crescent in the middle of my forehead. "My Lady."

I took a deep breath and stepped away from him just a tiny bit. It felt like I was ripping off my own arm. He captured my hand in his, weaving his fingers tightly between mine, and I held onto him. He met my eyes again, and I just nodded.

I led us down the stairs into the lounge. Maybe Kalona's brief takeover of the school was still affecting people more than I thought, because that was the only reason I could come up with for why the lounge was full of my friends, yet everyone else in the dorm stayed in their rooms, hopefully asleep. Heath saw me first, of course, and gave me a kinda-sad smile. Then Erik (who was standing next to Heath?) turned around. He looked into my eyes like he was refusing to see Stark standing next to me.

Erik crossed the room in just a few long strides, gathered my face in his hands, and kissed me. He held my face tightly – almost too tightly - but his kiss was gentle and sweet. I felt myself melt a little, leaned into him, and covered his hand with mine. But the whole time I could feel the pressure of Stark's hand, his thumb rubbing reassuring, distracting circles against my palm.

I squeezed Stark's hand, broke the kiss, and stared into Erik's eyes. He looked pissed, but he was trying. "I love you, Z," he whispered in my ear. "I almost wish I didn't."

I could hear a vulnerability in his voice that didn't show on his face. I hated that he was mad – would probably _stay_ mad – but I hated hurting him, more. I wished I could just throw my arms around him and promise him that I loved him and would do anything to stop hurting him. The Stark's hand twitched, and I'm pretty sure I died a little inside. This was worse than horrible. There wasn't a _word _for how horrible this was. I loved them both. _Oh, Goddess, how can I do this... _

Heath tackled me from behind and threw me onto the nearest couch, and before I could catch my breath he locked eyes with me, kissed me hard and fast, and came up grinning. I squirmed and he rolled off me some, letting me breathe. He kissed me softer on the cheek and whispered in my ear. "Don't worry about them. You go be high priestess and kick some butt."

He let me go when he felt me relax. He was right. Anyway, there was plenty of time to beat myself up later. Hell, if I screwed up the High Priestess / Kalona stuff there probably wouldn't be a later to even worry about. That thought shouldn't've made me feel better, but it kind of did.

"Thanks," I whispered to him.

"Anytime, Zo." He whispered back.

I took a deep breath and raised my voice. "Heath Michael Luck, get your musclebound butt off me."

He hopped up, grinning, and looked around expectantly. It really was the perfect setup for a 'that's what _she_ said'. In most cases the Twins would have been right there, but when they didn't say anything, it finally processed through my addled brain that they weren't saying _anything. _They were just sitting on matching lounge chairs, looking at Heath and me like we were a science experiment.

I glanced over at Aphrodite, who was paying _way _too much attention to her manicure (even for her), and Darius, who was looking guard-like and stoic and not saying anything either. The only noise in the room – which sounded way too loud and awkward in the suddenly deafening silence - was Jack, talking to Damien. Jack's voice sounded strained and Damien was nodding too often at whatever Jack was saying. The silence from everyone else continued, and Jack finally took a deep breath and stopped mid-sentence. He looked over at us - at me first, then at Heath, then Stark. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Jack," Stark said.

Damien put his arm around Jack. "You tried, honey," he said. "That's more than I can say for the rest of you." His glare took in the Twins in particular.

"Queen Damien," Shawnee sighed, "you cannot tell me that you are comfortable with the soap opera on steroids over there."

"Exactly," Erin chimed in. "Like we're supposed to _not_ stare at the weirdness that is Z being shared by the trio of hotness. It's not a soap opera, Twin, it's porn."

"I stand corrected," Shawnee agreed.

My face burned, but I couldn't back down or hide like I wanted to. "They're not 'sharing' me," I snapped. I couldn't look at any of my guys, though. "Nyx wants us all together for a reason."

"Oh, we know. Stark explained it to Jack, Jack told Damien, and Damien told all of us so we wouldn't be 'shocked and inappropriate'." Shawnee made air quotes around her words.

Erin added, "Z, we love you, but you have to know this isn't normal."

"That is where you are wrong," Darius spoke up from the back of the room. "Some priestesses, not all, but some, have intimate connections with more than one male. The demands of being a priestess are such that different men fill different roles, different needs in the priestess's life. Zoey is still young, but the demands on her are great. I am not surprised that Nyx has had some hand in choosing the males in Zoey's life. Even though I am not intimate with Zoey, I consider myself chosen by Nyx to serve her with whatever skills I have."

I couldn't think about the world-altering information he'd just shared, because his simple declaration of devotion and service was too much to let pass unacknowledged. The words flowed from Nyx through me, and I didn't feel awkward or young or inexperienced or worried. I felt like a priestess. I walked over to him and stood in front of him formally. "Thank you, Darius. I am forever grateful for your service to me, and to Nyx."

He inclined his head to me, crossing his arm over his chest in a traditional, formal salute. "I am glad to be in your service, Priestess."

"That's what I was trying to explain to you guys, " Damien said. "It's not common knowledge – it's only vaguely mentioned in the sixth-former Advanced Vamp Soc book – but when Jack told me what Stark said I started cross-referencing. It's not what we're used to from our human upbringing, but in vampyre society, it's possible for priestesses to have Mates, Consorts, and Warriors. I couldn't find any mention of other priestesses having all three at the same time, but we all know Z is special."

Some movement from Erik caught my eye and I remembered. He'd been the first one to tell me something like that – that a human that a priestess was connected with was called a Consort, while her vamp lover was called her Mate. Erik was only a fifth former before he Changed. How had he known?

Erin rolled her eyes, "Special in the head, maybe."

"Amen, Twin," Shawnee agreed.

I relaxed a little. That was the closest I was going to get for an apology from them, but I couldn't really blame them. _I_ was having a hard enough time accepting the guy situation, and it was me in the middle of it. I would probably be just as weirded out if it was one of them with more than one guy. "You can ride the short bus with me, there's room," I told them. They looked at each other.

"We'll ride the short bus with you any day," Erin said, finally.

"But we're still going to give you crap about you dipping way too often in the man-pool over there," Shawnee grinned.

I rolled my eyes, but it actually felt kind of good that they were teasing me, that they weren't going to pretend everything was normal. No matter what Darius and Damien said, this wasn't normal for _me_, and not to them, either.

I _was_ amazingly relieved to hear that just maybe I wasn't a ho, that maybe somehow the rules about guys and priestesses were different. Just maybe, I'd get used to the idea. I had new reasons to be freaked, though. I'd thought my guys were somehow connected to helping me get rid of Kalona. If the extra guys (extra, as in more than one) were just about being part of my life because being a priestess is hard, where was my extra edge in defeating the possibly homicidal (and agonizingly tempting…) frightening immortal?

Jack cleared his throat in a super-obvious way to get our attention, and I almost asked him what he wanted - then I got distracted by Heath saying something to Erik under his breath. Erik nodded stiffly, and I couldn't help myself. I know I should have just let it go, and I know it was irrational and a little paranoid of me, but I was a little disturbed that my guys were talking.

"Thanks again." Heath said, a little more loudly. He said it like he meant, it but he was still pissed about something.

Erik's mouth tightened, but he nodded back.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I should be asking Erik or Heath.

"Nothing," Erik shrugged.

Heath sighed. "I'm behaving myself." He said it like he was explaining something, not being defensive or making excuses.

"What do you mean?" I pressed.

"While you were upstairs I got a brainstorm," Heath said. "Maybe I can get some help with this consort stuff from Erik's dad."

All those words in the same sentence didn't make sense. "Erik's dad?"

"Sure," Heath looked confused, too. "His dad. Consort to Shekinah's number two?" He caught my feelings and the confusion on my face. "You didn't tell her?" he turned to Erik. "Dude!"

Erik shook his head irritably. "Who my father is isn't relevant. Let it go."

My mouth was dry. "I didn't think vampyres could have kids," I said stupidly. Something about the genetic change that let vamps live longer meant that our DNA just didn't combine right any more when it came to making babies. I heard some vamp commentator sometime say that was why vamps dominated the arts – because we can't make babies, we create other stuff. But if Erik's dad was a consort… "You're adopted?"

Erik shook his head. "No."

"Your dad hooked up with a vamp high priestess _after_ he had you?" Erin asked.

"Whoa," Shawnee added.

Erik shook his head again, looking irritable and uncomfortable. "Fine. My dad was a liaison between the vamp high council and the human government in Venice. He became Aella's consort, I don't know the details. Part of Aella's responsibilities are overseeing the Houses, so Dad traveled with her a lot. Still does. He met my mom here in Tulsa. She teaches English and they were working on comparing the House curriculum to the work done in the human schools. They got married, had me, divorced, end of story."

My mind was reeling. Erik's dad was a consort, his mother was someone other than his priestess.

"I didn't know consorts could marry," I said, still shocked stupid.

"His priestess has a mate" he shrugged. "If a consort wants kids, that's the way it's done."

Heath would make a good dad. I couldn't look at him.

"Zo, you're not mad right? Erik's dad's priestess has a Mate and him, so I figured instead of talking to guys with broken bonds, I could get some good advice from someone who is living it. " Heath jumped in.

Aphrodite huffed and spoke for the first time this morning. "All this talk of family is making me all warm and fuzzy inside. Can we _please_ talk about the apocalypse instead?" Darius came forward and put his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him just slightly, and just for a second I saw a different kind of devotion on his face. I made a mental note to ask Aphrodite about him later. In the meantime, I could only be grateful for her interruption. Even though I was the one who started it, I did _not_ want to explore the dynamics of my guys with everyone watching.

I turned away from them, looking for an escape. "Jack?" I asked.

"Kalona is in Vegas," he blurted out.

* * *

_Sorry sorry sorry! I swore I'd have this done by the 21st and I just couldn't make the revelations come out in the right order! I think I've got it now, so I am going to try very very hard to get the next bit out faster. I promise I've been working! I've read Burned three times, but the newest Vampire Academy book came out on the 18th and I haven't let myself even start it until I finished this chapter! (And now that my writer's block VA story is turning into a full story, I won't let myself read Spirit Bound until I get a rough draft of two more important scenes for that fic. Yes, feel sorry for me ;-b – I just want to make sure I get my idea on paper before I find out the real story!)_

_Okay, sorry also for the long, rambling author's note!_

_So - what do you think of my guess into Erik's family and his past, how he got to know so much about vampyres and high priestesses, why he was trying to convince Heath that being a consort wasn't worth it, and why Erik is attracted to strong women like Aphrodite and Zoey (and maybe someone else… *hint* *hint*)? Guys are a lot like their fathers, not in a Freudian want-to-sleep-with-mom kind of way, but in finding the same kind of women attractive that dad finds attractive. One of my friends' dads left his mom when he was young, to date younger women. X doesn't want to be like dad, but it's kind of eerie and a little freaky how he picks younger women with personalities just like dad would like…_

_Thanks so much everyone for sticking with me and my story! I especially love you when you review!_


	21. Kalona is in Vegas

_HON belongs to PC and Kristen Cast - and google or read PC's blog for images of her and the real-life Seoras. They're dating and she absolutely glows :-D. _

* * *

_Kalona is in Vegas._

"In _Vegas?"_ I repeated. My mind immediately flashed to Kalona in my dream. That didn't _look_ like Vegas… Both Heath and Erik looked at me funny. "Are you sure?"

Aphrodite snorted delicately from her spot on the dorm lounge couch. "We should have thought of that a while ago. Vegas is perfect. Lots of vamps, and the casinos really frown on cameras and cell phones. Perfect place for him to lie low and not attract a lot of attention."

"Wings and worshiping minions don't get attention?" Erin asked.

"Not in Vegas," Aphrodite shrugged.

"Aphrodite is right about the wings," Jack said, sounding flustered. "But it's not just Vegas. Wings are everywhere – it's a new faery crazy. It was really hard following up on all the tweets and blogs and google alerts because I kept getting _so_ many dead ends."

"Faery craze?" Shaunee asked.

"Wings are in," Jack answered, sounding very much like a gay fashionista for a second.

"A fashion we missed, Twin?" Erin asked. "I don't think so."

"It's very new. I think it _has_ to be connected to Kalona somehow but I can't figure out how. I just know in the past few weeks we've got wings in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New Orleans… and the big designers are all tweeting about faeries… nothing outside the US, but it's just me and my laptop," he added apologetically, "so I'm awful worried that I'm missing a bunch, but I'm doing the best I can."

I was a little overwhelmed. I'd just figured Aphrodite and her visions would be our early-warning system. I hadn't asked Jack to use his uber-techno-geek skills, and I was fighting between wanting to kick myself for overlooking him and wanting to hug him for being so on top of things. I'd basically fallen down on the job, not using _everyone's _skills in tracking down Kalona. Luckily my friends were smarter than me, but I was not making a good showing as a high priestess just yet. I just had to hope that I was really learning from all my mistakes.

In the meantime, the enormity of what we were trying to do hit me again. Kalona could be working on a global scale and we were just a bunch of kids. I pushed all that away so I could at least _sound_ like a priestess who knew what the hell she was doing. "You're doing great, Jack. Tell us what you need and we'll help." (And yeah, I didn't want to think too hard just then about what I'd been doing to "help".)

"Thanks," Jack blushed. "I've got my own system for filtering all the information that comes in and following up on leads, but maybe it would help to have more eyes looking at things."

"Say no more," Erin grinned.

"We're tired of sitting around waiting for the next crisis. It'd be kind of nice to see it coming. We're all yours." Shawnee said.

Damien kissed Jack's cheek. "Good job, you."

I tried not to take the "sitting around waiting" comment personally. "So Kalona is in Vegas," I said. I got more weird looks from Heath and Erik, but I'd have to deal with them later. "How do you know?"

"Stark?" Jack asked.

"All you."

Jack opened his laptop and fiddled with a few things, then the huge flatscreen on the wall lit up and started to look like a giant version of his desktop. "I've been hitting dead ends all month," he said, pulling up a couple different windows. "I'm pretty sure some of the weirder giant bird blog and twitter mentions are Raven Mockers, but no Kalona. Lots of hot guys with wings, but all the video I get is human or vamp. I was following up on another tweet tonight that seemed right in a scary way. Let me get the exact post…" he pulled up Twitter, and scrolled up to some posts almost a day ago. He highlighted the one he wanted us to see and read it out loud – he and Damien were clearly soulmates in the professor-wannabe department. "HumanVegasCop said 'New winged resident, pretty boy, vamps love him, humans 50/50. Came from nowhere, no history. No case, tell me if you know my new friend.'"

"Carefully phrased," Darius noted.

"Yeah, that's what Stark thought, too. So I did my usual, used one of my twitter accounts – I've got twenty, so I'm harder to track - to ask for video. He said it'd be pretty hard in the casino because of the no cameras rule, but he had an idea and would get back to me. A few hours ago he sent me this."

He typed and clicked a few things, then the giant desktop went away and the screen was filled with a grainy, wobbly picture, obviously in low light, maybe from someone's cell phone. The frame moved and Kalona filled the screen, standing in front of a door in what looked like a hotel hallway. Even in the grainy video, he was, sadly, breathtaking – my breath, anyway. His wings seemed to absorb light, they were so black, and the fringe of feathers at the edges dripped like black ink. He was still bare-chested, denim riding low on his hips; smooth, perfect skin over perfect muscles. He was looking away, so the video only showed him in profile, but profile was more than enough. The corner of his mouth turned up in a beautiful, seductive smile, and his eyes were warm. He pulled someone closer, and that someone joined him in front of the door.

I felt a stab of jealousy. Not just a stab: a full, end-of-_Braveheart _evisceration. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heath drop himself onto one of the lounge couches, and on the other side of me, Erik clenched his jaw so tight he was grinding his teeth. Kalona spread his wings: a mesmerizing expansion, like a full body, morning-after-an-amazing-night stretch. He curved them forward – around _her. _

I'd been in Kalona's arms a couple of times – in the infirmary after Neferet had healed me from the Raven Mocker attack, and when Kalona got into my dreams and Stark interrupted – but I'd been more than a little distracted both times. I hadn't really paid attention to his wings. Now, watching him hold a girl who wasn't me, I concentrated on his wings so I wouldn't start crying.

I guess I'd thought that his wings were a little like hands. Instead, his wings were a whole other magnificent creation, something that worked like no other part of a human body, but something a human body was obviously missing. He surrounded the girl in softness, draping his wings around her like a cloak. Each feather was under his control, and he brushed them all along her body, caressing her arms, her waist, her legs, all the way down to the sides of her slender feet – she was up on her tip-toes, balancing on delicate, barely-there but insanely high strappy stiletto heels. As he leaned over her, I saw just how _big_ those wings were - the tips of those inky black feathers brushed the floor.

He cradled her closer, supporting her in a beautiful lacework of feathers, so light and airy and fragile-looking, but obviously so solid and strong. Oh-so-slowly, he bent and pressed his lips against her neck. His kiss was whisper-light and she dropped her head back, relaxing into his embrace in a complete, trusting surrender. He drew her closer, those strong feathers overlapping in a lattice that held her effortlessly, and she nearly floated on the blanket of his wings as his hands trailed over the rest of her body.

My body reacted really inappropriately – as in, it reacted just like Kalona was cradling _me_ in his wings and kissing _my_ skin. I nearly had to sit on my hands to keep myself from reaching out, wanting to feel the ticking softness of his feathers against my fingers.

Ah. Hell.

I could barely control myself, and Kalona wasn't even here.

Erin saved me from having to say anything, which was good because I couldn't breathe, much less talk. "Damn."

"Scary bird boy is still hotness incarnate," Shawnee sighed.

"Focus, hormone-morons," Aphrodite snapped. "So Kalona is in Vegas, here's proof. Why am I losing beauty sleep when you could have texted me this oh-so-earth-shattering news?"

"Wait." Stark's voice was flat, but it cut through Aphrodite's annoyance and me dealing with my overwhelming physical response.

Aphrodite pinched her lips together but actually listened to him. It took just a second more to see what Stark meant.

The girl on the video turned her head, and even with the closed eyes and blissful expression, it was obvious: the girl was me. Okay, not really me, but a girl who was gotta-look-twice similar. Same long, dark, kind of nappy hair, same strong Cherokee – or native-something – nose. Her chin was different, more pointy, and her cheekbones were (sadly) better than mine. But her eyes were exactly the same shape, and when she opened them, she looked directly at the camera. She narrowed her eyes, obviously pissed about being watched or recorded or interrupted – or probably all three – then her mouth curved in a pretty smile when Kalona whispered something in her ear. At that moment, it was eerily like looking at a really good, pre-Marked photo of myself.

Looking at her was hard, but it was still easier than looking at Kalona. "Huh," I said, trying to sound casual - but my throat was tight and I failed utterly. I looked over at Stark – he'd stayed by the stairs, looking very Warrior-protector-ish – "You could have warned me."

He cracked his trademark cocky grin. "I had other things on my mind."

"Sorry, Z," Jack said, sounding truly worried. "I should have shown you first, in private."

Yes, he should have. Okay, not really, but sheesh, I didn't need to see that, not in front of everyone. I felt like screaming.

"I just thought you'd want everyone together so we can figure out what Kalona is doing."

"Yeah, Z.," Erik sounded tired. "What's Kalona doing?"

Something about the way he said it was… weird. Everybody else turned to look at him, too. "What do you mean?"

He looked right at me then, and his eyes were dangerous, almost as bad as the other night. I took a step back and Stark was by my side, clearly between me and Erik, in an instant.

Erik shrugged, and took an obvious step, in a definitely threatening way, so he was closer to me and less blocked by Stark. Stark stayed put, but he was practically vibrating beside me. Erik didn't move any more, though; he just stood there, staring at me. "I'm tired of this. I love you, I really do. But you've got to be honest about Kalona right here, right now."

"Honest about what?" The arousal burned away and I was baffled, and a little scared. Not even Stark knew how attracted I was to Kalona, so there was no way Erik had figured that out, but I had no idea what else he could be getting at. And I _really_ didn't want a repeat of the yelling and cruel Erik I saw lurking in his eyes.

"Fine," he said. He looked around. He definitely had everyone's attention. "Kalona gets in Zoey's dreams. And they do a lot more than talk."

I wanted to strangle him.

Seeing Kalona kissing, caressing, and making another girl smile was bad enough. The fact that she looked like me was really upsetting and disturbing and more than a little confusing. Erik telling everyone that that girl could legitimately be me was just flat out mean. Explaining that I actually _was_ insanely attracted to Kalona was just going to complicate matters and I _so_ wanted to leave that part out for another time. I know I said I'd tell everyone later, but right now, I was thinking never. Never was sounding really, really good.

"That's crazy," Damien scoffed. "Z would have told us. She's not going to do a Blake all over again."

Um, actually… I was. Crap. I was.

Erin and Shaunee looked at Erik, then looked at me. "Um, Twin," Erin said, "I'm not necessarily buying drama-boy's drama-moment here, but I think Z's got something to say."

I most definitely did _not_ have something to say. But High Priestesses don't get to get scared and mute, and they most definitely don't get to back down when they're confronted with their mistakes. My mistakes.

"Erik is half right." I wanted to make it clear that even though I was attracted to Kalona, I hadn't actually _done_ anything. "If I'm sleeping alone, Kalona can get in my dreams. So _I don't sleep alone_." I wished I could glare at Erik for outing me, but I couldn't look at him.

I looked at Stark, though. Stark, who slept with me every night to keep Kalona away from me – not that either of us was complaining about that. But the one time we'd actually _talked_ about Kalona being in my dreams we'd had other issues going on and I hadn't told him the whole truth – that even though I was freaked out by Kalona, I still (sadly) ached for his touch. I hadn't meant to lie to Stark... I was pissed at Erik all over again – I was going to tell, I just wanted to tell Stark in private first.

I looked at Heath next, and my heart sank to my knees. He knew. I was back to being really, really miserable and annoyed about the whole he-feels-what-I-feel-through-the-Imprint. For once, though, he didn't look too thrilled about it either. I _so_ wanted to just take a minute and pull him outside – where Stark couldn't go and Erik would at least be _supremely_ uncomfortable – and try to explain.

Finally – and quickly, because I was starting to feel claustrophobic with everyone staring at me in a really-not-supportive way - I looked around at the rest of my friends. I'd lost Damien, Erin, and Shaunee before because I'd lied to them about Loren, and it took a lot for them to trust me again. And now, I was doing _exactly _what I did with Loren. Worse.

I didn't do it on purpose, but maybe I secretly _wanted_ Kalona in my dreams. If I'd really been worried about Kalona I would have told Erik and Heath – first thing, more important than anything else: no matter what happens tonight, _do not leave me sleeping alone. _Heath had stayed with me anyway, but I couldn't blame Erik for getting up to get me breakfast when I'd never told him the dangers of leaving.

I wanted to give everyone a hundred excuses, a thousand excuses, explain everything, in detail, my actions and thoughts and feelings so I didn't look so bad for making the same mistake. For making the same mistake a zillion times _worse_. But no excuse was going to matter. I screwed up. Again.

I wanted to sit down, I wanted someone to hold my hand, I wanted to cry – but I made myself stand a little straighter instead and looked past Erik at Damien. "I don't sleep alone, but it doesn't matter. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I can't get Kalona out of my head. I'm resisting as much as I can, but I want Kalona so bad that if he showed up in this room right now I don't think I could say no to him. I _wouldn't_ say no to him, no matter what he wanted." I surprised myself, admitting that much out loud. I hadn't even admitted that much inside my own head.

My skin seared with a familiar pain, all along my arms and down my legs; from my upper arms to the backs of my hands, and my thighs to the tops of my feet. The sensation raced hot and fast and gone, and I closed my eyes for just a second – not because of how much it hurt, but because I was happy. Admitting my mistake was the right thing - the _really_ right thing to do. The new tattoos - hidden under the sleeves of my borrowed hoodie and my three-day old jeans - were proof: _something_ about this horrible situation with Kalona was okay.

I really wanted to look, to see my new marks from my goddess, but I couldn't, not yet.

Damien spoke first. "You're serious, aren't you." He said it like a statement, not a question, and his face was white.

Stark stayed by my side, but he got really, really still. "I'm sorry," I said, to him – to everyone.

Aphrodite's voice was really dry. "Great. Does this mean I'm in charge again?"

But I couldn't answer or say anything else because Erik's mouth was on mine in a surprise kiss. "Thanks for finally admitting it," he whispered. "I know that wasn't easy for you."

And that's when my brain caught up. Erik. I flashed back to a thousand tiny – and some not-so-tiny – things: things he said, things he did, things other people said, things that happened when he was around… and they all spun together in an awful kind of vortex that vomited out an answer that I almost couldn't bear to see. Erik's hands were cradling my face and I covered his hands with mine. I looked into his eyes – somehow a perfect shade of Caribbean-blue in the soft lighting of the dorm lounge – and whispered back: "Who told you Kalona gets in my dreams?"

* * *

_Thank you for sticking with me and this story! Thanks also for not hating me for starting another story while I wrestle with writer's block on this one... I wanted this chapter to be so much longer and more exciting, but I just couldn't make it work. I'm so sorry it took me so long and this is all I have! Good stuff is coming – stuff I'm excited about, anyway :-b – so I hope you'll forgive this chapter as kind of a "transition" chapter…_

_I hope everyone is having a great summer!_


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